


The Family Business

by Lansfics7



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parent John Winchester, Case, Danger, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester Fight, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Siblings, Dean's a big brother, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Eventual Happy Ending, Family Fluff, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Fun, Happy, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, Hunt, Hunt Gone Wrong, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, I MISS SEASON 1, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I want them to be happy for once, Just an awesome story, Kidnapped Dean Winchester, Kidnapped Sam Winchester, Little Brothers, No Time Frame, Nostalgia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Sam Winchester, Protective, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Older Brothers, Protective Sam Winchester, Rakshasa, Smiles, Supernatural Fandom - Freeform, Throwbacks to season 1, brotherly moments, im a sucker for fluff tbh, lets goooo, they need to be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-07-30 19:56:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20102758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lansfics7/pseuds/Lansfics7
Summary: I made up an episode! Shorter fic but totally worth it! Enjoy an old fashioned hunt, [because we don't get many       anymore ;( ] Includes everything you love about Supernatural :) Brotherly moments, tense case, and lines we love all packed in.People shredded in their house with no forced entry. Police are calling it an animal attack but the Winchesters know better. They go to the local town and try and sort things out and hunt the monster, but when one of them gets taken they realize there are bigger things going on.Rly laid back fic, no certain set time period between seasons, but some plot points are mentioned.ENJOY!





	1. Definitely Our Kinda Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all like this! Just something I wrote up because I miss Season 1 and the old hunts every episode. Throwback to the monster they hunted in Season 2 Everybody Loves a Clown because it's been a while :)  
Enjoy!

"Hey, Dean," Sam gently nudged Dean's shoulder. "Dean, wake up." He straightens by his brother's bedside, shaking his head with an annoyed but patient half smile, waiting for his older brother's face to emerge from where it's suffocating under a pillow. Sam sighs and wacks Dean on the shoulder harder.

"Dean, come on man, you used to wake up all the time catching me sneaking out. This isn't fair-"

"'Cause I'm your big bro," Dean's voice comes from where it's buried in the bed. "And you're a clumsy idiot. Also who sneaks out to go to the bookstore?"

"Library," Sam corrected.

"Who hurt you?" Dean grumbled.

Sam rolls his eyes and starts to fix his tie, pulling it away from his neck and trying to straighten the knotted loop, "Whatever." 

Dean finally turns over and opens one eye sleepily before he snorts, "Nice face."

Sam, who had his tongue sticking out in concentration immediately shoots him a look and drops his hands to his sides self consciously, "Shut up." 

Dean yawns and groans, blinking to adjust to the light; Sam had opened the curtains. "My eyes."

"Ok Dracula, grow a pair," Sam grins. 

"Watch it," Dean stretches, sitting up in the bed and swinging his legs over the side, looking at Sam who is buttoning up his sleeve. He raises an eyebrow, "And why did you wake me up at 8 am?"

Sam wiggles his eyebrows, "I found us a case."

Dean looks at him in utter disbelief. "Dude, we just got back from a wendigo hunt _last night_."

Sam paid no attention, grabbing a folder that was lying on the desk next to him, on top of his laptop. "Unsolved deaths about an hour's drive from here, the most recent death dating back to 2 days ago. All were killed the same way: ripped to shreds. They're calling it an animal attack."

"Maybe it is. Maybe it's not out kind of thing?" Dean muttered sleepily, rubbing his head before reaching for the can of beer on his nightstand. He shook it, frowning as he realized it was empty. 

"There were no signs of forced entry," Sam added. 

"Ok, it's definitely our kind of thing," Dean admitted before he made a face. "But really? Now? I thought we would at least have one day off. Go to a bar, have a drink or two, meet some girls?" Dean wiggles his eyebrows. 

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes, shrugging, "Ok, ok, I'll go alone on this one. You go have fun with your bar and drinks and girls-"

"First off," Dean pointed at him and laughed mockingly, "that would be fun. Me, myself, and I having a nice night out in the town? And second, you're not going alone." 

Dean got up slowly, pushing past Sam to get to the coffee pot. "Just...let me wake up."

Sam smirked, "Ok sleeping beauty, I'll be in the car."

"You sit in the driver's seat I'll kill you," Dean mumbled and Sam grinned, heading out the door and shutting it behind him. 

10 minutes later Dean came walking angrily out of the motel room door and Sam looked up from his notes. His older brother locked their door and slid into the driver's seat, rubbing sleep out of his eye.

"Morning sunshine," Sam grinned. 

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said, putting the key in the ignition and turning it. He backed out of the parking space and pulled onto the road, the Impala speeding down the main stretch, it's muffler roaring in their wake. Dean was pushing 60 on the long, empty highway. He grinned at Sam who shot him a look.

Dean's grin turned into a pout and he rolled his eyes, easing off the accelerator and returning to a normal speed, grumbling, "You're no fun grandma." Dean drummed his fingers on the dash along to ACDC, then he reached for the stereo, turning down the music. Then Dean looked over at his little brother, resting his hand on the top of the wheel.

"Alright, give me a rundown," Dean spun his finger in a circle, cuing Sam to fill him in. "What are we up against?"

Sam shrugged, "Not sure exactly. Brian Montgomery, lawyer of Monument, Colorado. He died 2 nights ago, like I said, ripped to shreds, no forced entry."

"Ok, well, first off, why this guy? Any skeletons in his closet?" Dean asked.

"That's the problem. Everyone has a grudge against this guy," Sam said. 

Dean grinned, "Cause he's a lawyer. See? I saved your life pulling you out of school."

"Whatever Dean," Sam rolled his eyes. "But yeah, he's screwed over a lot of people."

"Literally or-" Dean asked.

"No- what- Dean, come on," Sam shook his head at his brother's immaturity. "Screwed over like swindled. At least 15 people have reported him for manipulating clients into giving them a higher pay after the case. One some instances, he even accepted bribes from the opposing sides and sabotaged the court case just to make bank. There's rumors he's sent innocent people to jail."

"So he's a full on douche," Dean summed up. 

"Pretty much," Sam nodded.

"So, if this is all the town talks about, I mean, everyone must hate the guy and what he did is kinda against the law right? So why isn't he in jail?" Dean asked, looking over at his brother. 

"I do have an answer for that," Sam says. "I did some digging and turns out he and the sheriff?" Sam set down his notes, "best friends since high school."

Dean made a face, shaking his head, "That sly dog. Ok, so, he's dead now, who gives a crap?"

"Because he was killed Dean," Sam said, turning in his seat, "And, 2 weeks ago, Megan Fletcher was killed. Same way. Torn to bits too. And, get this, Brian is the 2nd body of the month, right? Well, after a bit of research, I found out that this happened exactly 25 years ago. 10 people died in the same way. Body ripped to shreds, no signs of struggle or any of that."

Dean nodded, trying to focus on the hunt, "So what could do that?"

Sam scoffed, "What couldn't? I mean, until we see the body, I have no idea what we're up against. Werewolf gene running in one of the families? Ghoul stalking the town? Heck, maybe a crossroads demon lives here and we've got a hell hound killing everyone."

"Yeah, but hell hounds don't exactly ring the doorbell," Dean pointed out. "I know from experience."

Sam's face slackened and he sank into his seat, muttering, "Yeah..."

He frowned angrily, not wanting to think about that day. He winced as his mind flashed back to his birthday in 2008. What a great birthday present: watching your brother die screaming, writhing in pain on the floor while invisible hounds rip out his chest. 

Every memory of each specific scratch was carved into his mind, Dean's strangled, ear shattering screams echoing in his head, blood covering the floor. And all the while, Sam is stuck, pinned to the wall, begging Lilith to stop- he can't even do anything. He can't save him.

And then Dean's screams die down, and Sam knows it's coming as his brother looks at him one last time in fear and then his eyes gloss over. It was his own fault. Dean had made that stupid deal to save him, and now he was going to hell for it. For him.

Sam still wakes up in cold sweats sometimes, clenching his fists so hard his palms are bleeding. He would bolt up, immediately looking over at Dean who was in the opposite bed, sleeping soundly, no idea that his younger brother was having nightmares about watching him die. 

He still had them. Even with all their fighting, Sam still couldn't bear to lose his brother again, especially not because he screwed up again. Not that Dean hadn't screwed up, because he had... it was confusing. 

"Hey, Sammy, you good?" Dean asks, hitting him in the shoulder, still his worried, overprotective older brother.

"Yeah, yeah, fine," Sam says, brushing him off and straightening in his seat, holding back a wince as the last of his older brother's screams fade away into memories. 

"So who can we talk to about the guy? I'd say Sheriff last, since he'll probably be bias or some crap. Does Brian have any family? Spouse?" Dean asked. 

Sam forced himself to focus, "Yeah. A wife. Deborah. That's pretty much it though."

"Alright. So we'll go talk to her first, then I guess the sheriff," Dean decided. 

"Kay," Sam said, before he turns in his seat, looking at the turn they were supposed to take. He looks back at his brother who is clearly hiding something. He knits his brow and points behind them, "Dean, you missed the turn."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Dean says. "Gas."

He's lying, Sam can tell, and plus, "You're at a full tank," Sam points out. 

Dean makes a face and curses under his breath and then pulls a brochure out of his pocket. "Guilty. Found it at the motel lobby."

Sam turns it over and rolls his eyes, suppressing a laugh. 

**Best pie in America! **

**Only at BlueJerry's**

Sam rolled his eyes, "Dude, seriously? We're on the clock."

"Brian's not going anywhere. He's a little _torn up_ about-" Dean trails off at Sam's unimpressed glance, his smile fading. Then he shrugs, "Relax, we can stop for some brain food. Federal Agents gotta eat, am I right Sammy?

"First off, it's Sam, and Dean, we're not FBI," Sam points out. 

"How dare you? I've got a badge," Dean flashes it in his face cockily in his face and Sam slaps it away, leaning to grab the steering wheel that his brother had just took his hands off of but Dean punches his arm before he can. 

Sam recoils his arm, "Ow!"

"Hands off my baby," Dean growls, taking control of the wheel again. 

"You're not even looking at the road!" Sam protests. 

"I am too!" Dean shouts back.

"Nice house," Dean whistles as they pull up to the driveway. He starts to grab the handle and Sam wacks his shoulder. 

"What?" Dean splutters.

Sam raises an eyebrow and hands him a napkin, motioning towards his mouth. Dean rubs the napkin over his chin, getting off some whipped cream from the pie he had eaten and giving Sam a nod of thanks who rolls his eyes. Dean shrugs and gets out of the car, closing and locking the door. 

"You know, some people could think I'm the older one," Sam teases, pointing at him. 

Dean scoffs, "Heck no, in your dreams. You're such a wuss. And," he pointing cockily back at Sam. "I save your butt too many times. Also, you're a total nerd. And-"

"Got it Dean," Sam laughs. "Thanks."

They walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. Dean looked around and Sam kicked him in the foot as the door started to open. 

"Deborah Montgomery?" Sam asked. 

"Yes?" The women nodded, her blonde hair bobbing with her head. She had on a skinny blue dress, her mouth a curious straight line, her eyes narrowed at the two men standing in her doorway. 

The brothers flashed their badges in sync and then flipped them back into their coats. 

"Ma'am, we're with the FBI. I'm Agent Barnes, this is Agent Frehley. We're investigating the death of your husband," Dean said. 

"We're sorry for your loss," Sam added sincerely, giving her the puppy eyes he was always good at. Dean resisted a roll of his eyes and nodded. 

"T-thank you," the women said. "Please, please come in. I talked to the police yesterday, the sheriff was a good friend of Brian's actually."

"Oh was he?" Dean asked, stepping inside after her. She led them into the living room and they sat down on the couch.

"Yes. So, tell me, why is the FBI stepping in? My husband was killed in an animal attack."

"With all due respect ma'am, what animal is let in by your husband and kills him in his bedroom?" Dean points out. 

Sam hits his foot a little and tries a softer approach. "My partner is simply stating that although we're sure this was some fluke animal attack, we've seen this type of case before. We're trying to make sure that history doesn't repeat itself, and with all regards to the police force, we joined the FBI for a reason."

"I understand," Deborah nodded. "Well, would you like some coffee? I can answer any questions."

"We're good, thank you," Sam smiled before Dean could say anything. 

Dean, pissed off that Sam had ruined his chance for coffee, butted in to ask the first question. "Where were you the night Brian was killed?"

"I was out in town with my two friends Mary and Katherine. We were at the salon when I got a call from my neighbor saying that a blonde women had entered Brian's house. I was sure she was lying...that women," Deborah winced. "She's not completely with it, if you know what I mean. She said some other things but I hung up on her. But then a couple hours later, when I came home...I found him upstairs, on the floor..." 

The women shook her head, wiping her eyes. "I haven't slept since."

Dean looked at Sam and motioned to the steps. Sam nodded discretely and asked quietly. "Can I take a look at the bedroom?"

"Yes," Deborah wiped her eyes, composing herself and smoothing out her dress. "Yes, it's right upstairs."

"Thanks," Sam said, buttoning his suit and standing, giving Dean a nod before walking upstairs, stepping over the yellow tape that ran across the wall. 

"So, your husband. What was he like?" Dean asked casually. 

Deborah nodded sadly, giving him a knowing look. "I know what you're asking. The people in this town...they never liked Brian, and for a good reason."

"So it was all true then?" Dean asked. "He wasn't the most upstanding guy?"

Deborah nodded. "I'm not going to defend him. What he did was wrong. But he was a good man at heart. He loved me, he just wanted me happy."

Dean nodded, "So if I were to ask about any grudges, that would include a lot of people."

Deborah gave a light laugh, "Yes, I suppose it would."

"Any chance I can get a copy of all of his cases?"

"Yes, it's- it's in his office. I can get it to you when we're finished," she said, nodding.

"Thanks," Dean shot her a smile. "So what happened, when you came home?"

"Nothing different than usual. I go out to the salon for about 4 hours and come home. I opened the door and he- he didn't answer. That's when I went upstairs and-" she gave a forced smile. "I called Issac, sorry, Sheriff Wright, in hysterics, I'll admit that and he rushed over. A few of his men came moments later and they closed off the upstairs. They told me I could stay in the house."

Dean nodded before his eyes wandered around the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

"Agent..." Deborah said slowly and Dean snapped his gaze back to her. "My husband, he wasn't killed by an animal was he?"

Dean paused and pursed his lips. He looked up and said, "Mrs. Montgomery, we're just here to do our jobs, which is to look at this from every angle. Between us and the sheriff, we'll find out how your husband died but you're going to have to bear with me."

Deborah nodded. "Thank you. I- I understand." She wiped her eyes and clasped her hands, "What else do you need to know? Please, keep asking, I'll do my best to help."

Dean gave her a quick smile, "Did you notice anything strange the night before your husband died?"

"Weird...how?"

Cold spots? Flickering lights?" Dean suggested. 

Deborah frowned, "Cold spots? Lights- what-"

Dean put up his hand in assurance, "Just some, mandatory questions."

"Oh well, no," Deborah shook her head. "No, nothing out of the ordinary."

"Huh," Dean said, flashing her a fake smile and knitting his brow.

"Is that good?" Deborah asked, wringing her hands.

"Yep," Dean said.

"Well that's not good." Dean opened the door to the Impala but never got in, instead looking over the hood at Sam. He sifted through the stack of papers and then smacked the folder down on the top of the car.

"Yeah," Sam scoffed, folding his hands on the hood.

"So to recap, we've got a wife with a clean alibi, clean house, a guy who was killed by God knows what, with a handful of grudge holding people who would _want_ to kill him, and a neighbor that seems to be the only witness but probably sniffs glue," Dean said angrily.

"Yep," Sam sighed. 

"Great," Dean said, rolling his eyes exasperated. 

"We still need to look at the autopsy," Sam reminded him, always there to find the silver lining. 

"Yeah," Dean winced. He unlocked the doors and then looked back up, "Hey, how about we split? You take crazy lady's house and I go look at the body. I'm getting tired of not having a lead."

"Alright," Sam agreed, patting the hood. "Don't be stupid," he said.

"You too," Dean said, sliding into the driver's seat and turning the key in the ignition. 

It was definitely the odd house on the block. It was a wonder they hadn't noticed it, but it made sense why they hadn't. Trees were surrounding the small cottage, sticking about among the mansions, but half covered up by them as well. Sam took a breath and walked up the staircase to the front door, the old wood creaking and breaking from his weight. The porch and front of the house were overgrown with vines and grass and Sam looked around as he knocked on the door.

After a few seconds it opened very slowly, only an inch, stopped by a chain. 

"Who is it?" a voice came from the other side of the wood. 

"Ma'am, I'm Agent Barnes? I'm with the FBI-"

"Let me see your ID," the women snapped, interrupting him. 

Sam tried to peak inside and stopped, deciding to just slip the badge through the small opening between the door and the wall. A hand came out and snatched it before holding it back out to him. Sam took it and put it back in his pocket. 

"I'm here to ask a few questions about-"

The door slammed shut and Sam jumped, stepping backward. "Oh...kay?"

There was a distinct sound of sliding metal and Sam breathed a sigh of relief, straightening as he realized she was unlatching the chain to open the door for him. The door creaked open slowly and an old women stood in front of him. She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him inside.

"Never know who's watching," she hissed, bolting and locking the door at least 4 different places. 

Sam gave a quick smile, "Very...very true ma'am."

"Alice Fox," she held out a withered hand and Sam shook it carefully, nodding in return.

"This way. I'll make some cider," she said, hobbling down the hallway. 

Sam took one step and there was a harsh, "shoes off young man" from the other room. Sam looked down and removed his shoes, before walking into what seemed to be the kitchen. 

"Now, are you here to make fun of me like the police did?" she grumbled, fussing away at the stove. She motioned to a wooden chair by the table and Sam took a seat, looking around at the odd room. 

"No- no ma'am," he stuttered. "Every detail you can give me helps. It definitely won't be the craziest thing I've heard."

"I'm not crazy," she snapped. "I know what I saw."

Sam backtracked, "Yes, I know you did, that's not what I meant- what- what did you see?"

Alice sighed, pouring him a glass of lumpy looking cider. Sam tried so hard not to wrinkle his nose at the smell of it. 

"I keep watch of everything in this neighborhood. I am the eyes and ears. I saw Deborah leave with her friends, yet not an hour later, she comes back. There was something...different about her. She never comes back in less than 4 hours."

"You saw...Deborah heading into the house?" Sam asked.

The women nodded, "When she first entered, all I saw was a blonde, that's why I called her. She was at the salon. But when the women left, I was almost sure it was Deborah."

"Can you tell me exactly what you saw when you first spotted the women," Sam asked.

Alice shrugged, "she walked up and rang the doorbell, and Brian opened the door. They spoke for a brief moment and then he let her inside. She came back out 15 minutes later and drove away. Then around 4 hours later Deborah came home and found Brian dead. The police arrived and I only told them about the blonde women, not that I thought it was Deborah. My old eyes must be deceiving me. I knew she was at the salon, and that was not her car," she said firmly, her eyes narrowed. She was hunched over her cider, looking at Sam suspiciously. 

"A different car?" Sam clarified.

"I had never seen that car in all my 50 years of living here," she said quietly. "Tan, broken down, looked like a Nissan from where I could see it."

Sam nodded, remembering that fact before he knit his brow and sat up straighter, "50 years..." Sam exclaimed, leaning forward, "Ma'am 25 years ago, these same murders happened. Do you recall any similar events?"

"Yes. I was in my 50's. 10 people dead, so awful, so brutal. They blamed it on a wild cougar, but I had never heard of one so local, and there have never been attacks even in the near by forest as far as I know."

Sam pondered that for a second and she leaned on the table, the edge creaking under her weight. "Law enforcement tends to cover up what they don't understand," she whispered. 

"Yes- well, not me," he gave her a quick smile. "Is there any reason you can think of why this happened? If it wasn't a cougar, I mean?" Sam asked. 

"No," Alice shook her head, "But this town...it's always been one of strange things. Bunch of killings about 36 years ago, never documented. Supposed haunting..." she shook her head and raised her eyebrows, pointing at him, "And controversy. Much controversy."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Well for starters, there was a temple that was burned down, and houses were built atop it's remains. Locals weren't too happy about that, but none had any money to rebuild it. The land was sold. Then political scandals and law firm scandals, always an argument going on around here."

Sam nodded, knowing that clearly wasn't what he was looking for. He buttons his suit, "Thank you for your time. Here's my card, please give me a call if you notice or find anything out of the ordinary."

Alice nodded slowly. Then she stopped him. "You didn't drink your cider."

Sam winced and picked up the cup, taking a huge gulp and swallowing just to be polite. He coughed and smiled, wincing, "Very- very good. Thank you. Strong, wow, that's- I'll be going now."

Sam unlocked the 7 bolts on the front door and exited, Alice closing it behind him with a sudden glance outside. He walked down the creaking steps and coughed again, the gross taste still in his mouth. He pulled out his phone and called Dean.

_"Hey."_

"Ok so, Alice Fox. Weird, but not crazy. Claimed that a blonde women was invited into Brian's house. Couple minutes later she comes out and leaves in an old tan Nissan," Sam recalls.

_"License plate?" _Dean asks hopefully. 

Sam winces, "Unfortunately no."

_"Of course not. Ok, so this blondie is suspicious,"_ Dean says, _"or maybe Alice is just a little...off, like Deborah said."_

"Yeah, but dude," Sam looks back at the house behind him and shakes his head, "I trust Alice. She's got a nasty cider and some crazy hoodoo in her house, but she didn't seem off her rocker. I believe her."

_"Alright, what else did she say?"_ Dean asked. 

"Here's the kicker. Alice swears it was Deborah who came out of the house, even though there's no way that's possible."

_"Why not?"_

"Because she called her when she was at the salon and I checked," Sam sighed. "That place is at least a 20 minute drive. And that wasn't her car. But whoever went in must have killed Brian because Deborah came home a couple hours later and found him dead, and Alice claims no one else entered the house."

_"And you believe her?"_ Dean asked.

Sam let out a small laugh, "She was too stalkerish for me not to. The lady had 7 locks on her front door."

Dean paused, then let out a low, "_Wow."_ He cleared his throat, sighing and then sighed, _"So I know what you're thinking. Shapeshifter."_

"What else could it be?" Sam asked.

_"Sorry to burst your bubble, but I doubt it's a shapeshifter."_

Sam frowned, "What?"

_"I just finished looking at the body. It does not look shiftery at all. He's barely in one piece, no distinct parts missing, just a mess of blood and guts."_

Sam sighed, "Crap. Then what is it. What else can shapeshift?"

_"I don't know. Hey- you said that lady was old, did she say anything about the murders that happened 25 years ago?"_

Sam shook his head self consciously, "No, she didn't know anything about them. Said they were blamed on a cougar. The police force around here either sucks or is trying to cover something up."

_"You said it," _Dean scoffed.

"She did say there were was a bunch of killings that happened, and some supposed hauntings," Sam offered.

He knew Dean shook his head when he said, _"Eh, but this doesn't seem like Casper to me. Maybe there are some ghosts here, but they didn't do this."_

"True," Sam said.

_"And you swept the upstairs at the Montgomerys and there wasn't-"_ Dean added.

"any trace of EMF," Sam finished, nodding. "Well, crap."

_"But what about the 25 year difference? I don't think anything leaves this town so maybe it's a cursed object or something."_

"Maybe even a black dog?" Sam laughed, throwing out a curve ball.

_"Hoooo yes! I've been wanting to gank one of those suckers ever since our first wendigo case."_

"I don't know man," Sam admitted. "I have no idea what we're up against."

Sam heard a car door open on Dean's end and his older brother asked,_ "Well, where are you? I'll come pick you up and we can go talk to that sheriff. Try and get some answers."_

"Walking past the Montgomery's house now," Sam said, looking to his left.

_"I'll be there in 10,"_ Dean says.

"Yep." Sam hangs up and sighs. He had hoped this case would have been easier; both he and Dean were getting restless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I continue? Hope it was good :)  
Please comment your thoughts <3 Stay tuned for next chapter!


	2. Raised Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2!! The boys have a nice long chat with the sheriff after Dean picks his brother up off the street and they finally figure out what kind of monster they're hunting!  
More brotherly moments I promise, and we get some typical Dean XD Also we gotta love Sam's taste in food <3  
Enjoy!

Dean rolled down his window, slowing to a stop by his younger brother on the side of the room. Sam raised an eyebrow at him, clearly unhappy.

"Thought you said you'd be here in 10?" Sam sighed, "I've been waiting for 25. I called but you didn't answer your phone," Sam held up his cell phone.

"Sorry, got side tracked," Dean grinned.

"I was getting wor-" Sam stops and makes a face at Dean who's grinning and holding up a piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on it.

"Christie," Dean wiggles his eyebrows. "She's a nurse."

"Congratulations, when's the big day?" Sam mocks. He rolls his eyes and circles the car, sliding into the seat.

"So where to next?" Dean asks, "Sheriff's?"

Sam shrugged, "Guess so."

Dean nodded and revved the engine, taking off down the road. "And then after? Lunch. I'm hungry."

"Melvin what time was my-" the sheriff walked out of his office and the deputy in the front turned. 

Sam and Dean stood up, walking forward from where they had been told to wait. 

"Who are they?" the sheriff asked. 

"FBI sir," Sam said, flashing his badge, "here to ask you some questions."

"Absolutely, please, come in. You kept them waiting?" he said to the deputy, faking a laugh but looking at him with anger. 

"You said not to disturb you-" Melvin stuttered, only to be waved off.

"It's quite all right," Sam assured him, giving the sheriff a smile. The deputy glanced apologetically at Dean who gave him a small forgiving nod as they followed the man back into his office. 

"I'm Agent Barnes, this is Agent Frehley," Sam said, flashing his badge and motioning to Dean.

"Sheriff Issac Wright, pleased to meet you." He shook both of their hands as they took their seats. The man took off his hat and folded his hands together, looking up solemnly. "I'm guessing you're here about the murders of Fletcher and Montgomery? I didn't know that would be a state kinda thing?"

"Well, we go where they send us," Dean liked with a flashy smile, "You know the job."

"We are sorry for your loss, we heard Brian was your friend?" Sam asked innocently. 

"Yes, yes he was," Issac nodded sadly. He smiled sadly, "We were very close. Good man."

"Was he?" Dean raised an eyebrow. He handed over the file he had been given from Deborah. 

The sheriff blanched. 

"We've looked into a bunch of his court cases, you know, to see if there were any skeletons in his closet. Well it seems that he's done a lot of illegal stuff. But somehow, he keeps getting away with it," Dean said, staring him right in the eyes. He raised an eyebrow, the Sheriff clearly sweating.

"Seems you did a little covering for him on more than one occasion," Sam said, narrowing his eyes. 

The sheriff sifted through the papers and pushed it back towards them, exchanging nervous glances with the both of them, "Now look-"

"We're not here to get you fired Issac," Dean assured him, "We're here on behalf of the murders. That being said, what you did was illegal and we have to make sure it didn't interfere with the deaths in any way."

"I understand," Issac said, clearly relieved but trying not to show it. Then he spluttered, "And if you think anyone in this town would go as far as to kill him over the things he's done, I can guarantee you they wouldn't. We get into a lot of fights around here, but no one is a murderer."

Dean nodded. "Guess I'll have to take your word for it."

Issac took a deep breath, spreading his hands. "And as for what I did...What can I say? He was like a brother to me. Do either of you have a brother?" 

"Sister actually," Dean said, taking a sideways glance at Sam who frowns, looking at Dean with annoyance. Dean chuckles, cracking a smile, "Never listens, total nerd."

The sheriff cracked a smile and Sam gave Dean a look of total disapproval. Dean winked back with the eye not facing the sheriff. 

"So you know what it's like to feel obligated to protect her then. That was me with Brian," the sheriff said to Dean. He motioned to the folder sitting between him and the Winchesters. "I covered for him when he asked me too, to help him out once in a while. Wouldn't you do the same for your sister?"

Dean paused, then sighed, "Yeah, yeah I would."

Sam resisted a smile. 

"And you know what? Sometimes Brian was even right, and I can prove that on multiple occasions. People just got on the bandwagon, not trusting him and blaming him for their failed court cases. Law is a twisted business," the sheriff sighed, leaning back in his chair. 

"That's what I keep telling this guy. He almost was a lawyer," Dean pointed at Sam, shaking his head and laughing. 

The sheriff grinned, "Good choice, picking the feds."

"So Issac, walk us through what you found," Sam requested, leaning forward and clearing his throat to stop Dean from interrupted him. 

Issac spread his hands. "Debroah called me crying. I got in the car with a few of my guys and found Brian torn to shreds in their bedroom upstairs. I figure you guys already stopped by?" He motioned to the file.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "My partner checked out the crime scene and I checked out the body in the morgue."

"Not much left to check," the sheriff winced and Dean gave him a grim wince. Issac rubbed a hand on the back of his neck and then said, "Debroah was a mess and I wasn't much better."

"Was there any security cameras around their house or on their street?" Dean asked.

"No," Issac shook his head, "I wish there was. I'd find out what did this." 

"I thought you said it was an animal attack," Sam questioned. 

The sheriff shook his head, "To be honest fellas, I have no idea what this was. But what else could have done this except some sort of animal? I mean, have you seen anything like this?"

"Yeah, actually I wanted to ask you about that," Sam said. "Exactly 30 years ago this happened. A string of murders, people all dying the same way, no suspects, no forced entry torn to shreds."

The sheriff's eyes widened, "I've only been working in this county for 11 years, I had no idea. All our records were transmitted to the state's headquarters last week, so getting anything from the past 50 years would take a while. They did a full wipe just about a month ago."

Sam nodded in understanding while Dean moved on to another pressing question.

"Megan Fletcher, how about her? What can you tell us about her death?" Dean said, changing the subject. 

"Girl was found about 2 weeks ago. She was found in her living room by her husband, right when he walked in. I- I liked Megan. She was nice, always smiling. Cody's devastated. Her husband," Issac supplied. Then he shook his head, "But that one... that one gets weirder," the sheriff said. 

"Brian's was weird as well," Sam pointed out. "Did you even take Alice's statement into consideration?"

"You talked to her?" Issac said, clearly disgusted. He shook his head and laughed, leaning forward, "Look pal, you don't know this town as well as I do. No one believes a word she says. She's crazy. She said a blonde walked into the house, and although she didn't say it outright, I was almost sure she thought it was Deborah."

The sheriff looked pointedly at Sam, "Now, I know the women. Deborah would never murder her own husband- they were happy. And she had an alibi. We have footage of her in the salon at the time of Brian's death."

"I talked with Alice. I'm not saying she's 100% sane but she knows what she saw. A blonde. And she did give a detailed description of the car she saw parked out front."

"Everyone knows everyone in this town-" he shook his head.

"You're missing the point," Sam said. "The women entered the house and when she left, we can assume Brian was dead, meaning he died when she was in the house. You don't have to be a fed to piece that together sheriff. So have your deputies on a look out for an old tan Nissan, because right now that's the only lead we've got," Sam said firmly, daring Issac to counter him. 

Dean admitted, Sam could be pretty firm and intimidating when he wanted to, and Dean cracked a smile smile, knowing he was the one who taught his younger brother to be tough. 

"Look Issac, we want to find out what happened to Brian and Megan just as much as you do. Just work with us here, we're just doing our jobs," Dean said. He shrugged, sighing, as if to seem casually suggesting that, "If you have a complain you can talk to Washington if you really want to, and get them involved-"

"No," the sheriff said quickly, cutting him off. "No, that won't be necessary. We can handle this."

Dean nodded, sharing a glance at Sam. "You said Megan's death was weird?" Dean reminded him. 

The sheriff shook his head, setting his forearms on the table. "Not her actual death, it was the same as Brian's. Husband had left, she was home alone. He came back and found her same way, ripped to shreds, this time in her living room," the sheriff said. "The weird thing was that a little girl named Maggie, daughter of the librarian around here? Claimed that she had gone up to sell girl scouts at the house, when suddenly Megan's husband Cody came out of the house, saw her, and dissapeared into thin air."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

The sheriff shook his head, "The door was left open, so I'm thinking she saw what was left of Megan's body and freaked. Maybe whatever came in, if it was a man, left the door open and she saw it first and that's what messed up her story's timeline? Because Cody was still at the tool shop during the time she claimed she saw him."

"So you dismiss this?" Dean said. "Little kids don't lie about stuff like that."

"I studied psychology in college Agent. Trauma can do weird things to people, especially at that age. I doubt that kid is going to ever sleep again, but seeing a sight like that can definitely make you hallucinate, or confuse someone with someone else. Either way, her story's crazy and, we have security camera footage of Cody." 

"And you know this, how?" Sam asked. 

"She ran back home to her mom, crying. When her mom drove her back to the crime scene after finally getting the story out of her, we were already there..." the sheriff lowered his head, "Cody had already walked in on the body and called us."

"And you don't believe her?" Sam asked. Dean almost kicked him but luckily the sheriff scoffed, chuckling softly, taking Sam's 'joke'.

"And you do? Kid said he turned _invisible_. That's a sign of heavy trauma right there: the physically impossible."

"Yeah- yeah," Sam backtracked, covering his mistake.

"It must be trauma. Kids these days aren't good enough actors to even make that up," Dean joked. 

The sheriff cracked a smile. Dean nudged Sam's foot and nodded before he reached a hand over to clasp the sheriff's. Sam did the same.

"Thank you for your time. We'll give you a call if we need anything else, but for right now I think we've both hit a brick wall, don't you?" Dean laughed.

"Yeah, well, let's hope you boys can figure out what the heck is going on around here," Issac nodded.

"We'll do some more digging," Sam assured him.

"Thank you Agents," Issac gave them a small smile. "Please, call if you need anything."

Dean and Sam left the building and Dean buttoned his suit, heading to the car. He opened the driver door and slid in in perfect sync with Sam without even realizing it.

"Well if that little girl is telling the truth, 'going invisible' definitely narrows it down," Sam said, sighing. 

"I didn't trust the guy," Dean said suddenly. 

Sam raised an eyebrow, "Really? I thought you and him got along fine, seemed like you were ok?"

"I should be an actor," Dean grinned before he scrunched up his nose and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know, I just didn't- I don't know."

Sam hit him gently in the shoulder, "Yeah..."

Dean shook his head, "We can't go off this on a hunch Sammy. Besides, why would the sheriff kill his own best friend? 

Sam slumped in his seat, "I don't know what we're up against. And Megan? How doses she relate to Brian? Why were they targets? They seem like polar opposites."

Dean nodded slowly, "Guess we have to figure out that too."

"Guess so," Sam sighed, pushing his long hair out of his face and rubbing his eyes.

"When I said I had a sister, I had a point-" Dean started. 

"Just drive," Sam said, exasperated. "But the fact that you got offended by it- ok, ok," Dean chuckled, putting the key in the ignition and turning it, starting the car and pulling out.

"Seatbelt," Sam said absentmindedly, knowing he hadn't put it on. Dean rolled his eyes, grumbling, but he put it on.

"Ok _mom,_" Dean mocked. 

Sam raised his eyebrows, his mouth open in surprise, "Excuse me for not wanting my big brother flying through the windshield. I swear to God Dean, if it's not your cholesterol, it's gonna be your driving of all things."

"I'm a great driver!" Dean protested, stroking the steering wheel, "Aren't I baby?"

Sam leaned in, "What did she say?"

"She said yes-" Dean said, before he realized Sam was grinning and messing with him and he pushed his brother's head, grumbling, "Shut up."

Sam laughed, settling into his seat, still grinning and Dean couldn't help but smile too.

"One day I'm just gonna kill you," he swore, not meaning it one bit. He had shown he couldn't live without Sam.

"I'll call your bluff on that one," Sam smiled at him before returning his gaze to the window. 

"Yeah, when it's not a card game you're pretty good-" Dean teased getting whacked in the arm. He chuckled turning the wheel to get back on the main road toward their hotel

"Let's get lunch," Dean decided, "then we can look at the lore."

When they got back to their motel, Sam posed a question. "Just realized something..." He set his bag down on the chair next to the door.

"Yeah?" Dean said, closing the door behind them. 

"We're going off a hunch. Like going invisible, that's definitely our kinda thing, but what if the girl just had trauma, like the sheriff said," Sam asked, rubbing his hand along his chin in his nervous fashion.

"Come on Sammy, we've gone off a lot more going off a lot less," Dean pointed out. 

Sam shrugged, agreeing with his brother. He grabbed their stack of books from the far desk and set them down on the table, sinking into a chair, offering him one and setting one in front of himself. "Come on Dean," he sighed.

Dean physically recoiled, making a face. He shuddered, frowning and taking the book before dropping it like it was hot. He scrunched up his nose, "Books. It's a wonder hell wasn't a library for me." 

Sam rolled his eyes, "They're not that bad Dean-"

Dean grabbed his coat, motioning towards the door, "Ya know, why don't you do your thing with the books and then I'll go discuss with some of the locals-" he reaches for the keys of the Impala but Sam snatches them before he can, holding them away. 

"No, no, no- nu uh. No. Last time you said that you were out the whole night at some bar," Sam said firmly, raising his eyebrows. 

"It was a restaurant," Dean protested, making a lunge for the keys that Sam dodged, putting a hand out to stop him from coming closer.

"That had beer," he added, smacking Sam's hand away as his brother stood, backing around the table. 

"Yeah, whatever," Sam said, keeping the keys away from him. 

"You're better at it Sam!" Lunge number one. "Research is your thing!" Lunge number 2. "You've always been the brains-" Dean said, stalling before he snatched without looking, hooking the edge of his key ring with his finger and tackled Sam. 

"You didn't even mean any of that!" Sam strained, twisting as they wrestled.

"I hate books!" Dean yelled, "Give me my keys!"

"No!"

"Hey! Ow-"

"Get off me-" Sam shouted, the two a mess of violent limbs thrashing around on the floor. Sam, in the midst of the wrestling, slid the key off the hook. He let go, grinning at his victory while Dean rolled off him in triumph.

"HaHA!" Dean's face fell as he recognized the empty hook and his arm dropped to his side, "Son of a-"

Sam grinned, dropping the key into his pocket, "Good luck driving."

"You suck," Dean grumbled.

Sam walked over to the table, picking up a chair they had knocked over. He opened Dean's book to the first page and patted it. "Invisible, tears peoples to shreds, let's go."

Dean made another face, grumbling as he put his jacket back up, and he sank down into the chair, exhaling loudly and opened the massive book in front of him. Sam shot him a grin of amusement and Dean made a face to mock him, slumping in his chair and starting to read. 

"Whoever finds it first wins and loser buys dinner," Dean announced, only a sentence in and already falling asleep. 

"Dean, we share the money we get," Sam laughed. 

"Let me have my fun Sammy, at least give me that," Dean said, shaking his head at Sam. 

"Alright alright. Loser buys dinner," Sam agreed. 

30 minutes later and 2 beers later Dean slammed his hand down on the table and jumping up, startling his younger brother who looked up in distaste; he'd been intently reading.

Dean wiggled his eyebrows, pointing at a section in triumph, "HA! I won! And you're not gonna like it."

Sam sighed, rolling his eyes at Dean's immaturity before setting down his book, "Whatcha got?"

"I can't believe I didn't remember," Dean laughed, "it all makes sense. Invisible, ripping up bodies. We're hunting a Rakshasa."

"Rak-" Sam's brow furrowed and he looked at Dean blankly, "Spark my memory."

"Killer clowns? Cooper Carnival? Wisconsin? Ring a bell Sammy?" Dean grinned. 

Sam's face went slack and he grimly nodded, shuddering before he spoke quickly noticing Dean's lip curl into a mocking smirk. He cleared his throat, "Shut up."

"You didn't sleep a week after that hunt," Dean chuckled. 

"Anyway," Sam said suddenly, closing his book, desperate to change the subject. "Remind me how we kill it?"

"Brass. Remember you broke that old pipe off?" Dean waves his hand in the air, finishing off his beer.

Sam recalls the fight and nods, "Yeah saved your-"

"Ok, so what else about this thing do you remember?" Dean asks, not liking when his brother saved him. Grateful, yes. But he still preferred it the other way around. Dean trailed off, flipping through the pages of the book and letting it close.

Sam broke into a small smile before he made a face and knit his eyebrows, "Why are you asking me?"

Dean looked at him blankly. "Because you're the nerd and I'll bet you the dinner I just won that you do remember stuff about this sucker. Besides, this book is vague and I prefer wikiSam."

Sam made the same face again, "Ok well- ok fine-"

"Told ya," Dean pointed at him, tossing his beer in the recycle can by the door.

"Rakshasas-" Sam ran a hand over his face, a small embarrassed smile forming. "Wow. I'm so dumb."

"Yeah, we know, but Rakshasa Sammy. Stay on target-"

"Shut up," Sam said. He leaned in his chair, "Alice said that there were ruins that had been built over. A temple. I'd take a good guess it was a Hindu temple."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Rakshasa are a race of ancient Hindu creatures, remember. They appear in human form, but can also shape shift and turn invisible, which makes sense with what that girl was saying. It must have been a Raksasa and she must have caught in the act."

"Why didn't it just eat the kid then?" Dean suggested.

"Same reason as last time. The clown killed the parents and left the kids. Not enough meat on the bones? They're violent creatures but they also hibernate...sort of. They sleep on a bed of dead insects and only go on their weird eating sprees a couple times every 20 to 30 years, so 25," Sam grinned, "That's smack in the middle."

"Well he's got to have fed some more...so remind me to look into the town's history. We can track these people's moving records, see which ones correspond with deaths," Dean pointed out. 

"Sounds like a plan," Sam nodded and then his brother gave him a small nod for him to keep going. "The weird quirk is why they had to turn into clowns, remember they had to have the kid get them in to kill the parents? They can't enter a house without first being invited. So..."

"So, they shapeshift into the person's fiance," Dean pointed at him like he had just figured it out, "Smart. Of course they'll let them inside."

"That's why Alice said that she swore she saw Deborah. It was Deborah, just not...Deborah," Sam said slowly. 

"So we need to find out it's next victim and catch it in the act," Dean suggests their next move. 

"Right, or find out who it is before they attempt to kill anyone else," Sam adds.

"Yeah, now dinner. On you Sammy, let's go." Dean grins and grabs his jacket, heading out the door. 

"When I said dinner, I meant _actual_ food. You know like the stuff you, I don't know, eat," Dean snarled to Sam who held back a laugh. Dean looked down sourly flipping the pages of his menu and pointing. He shook his head and made a face, "Not this...crap."

"Dean-" Sam tried, rolling his eyes. 

"Nu uh," Dean wouldn't had it. He held up his hand and then pointed down. "Find me one piece of meat on this menu and maybe I won't kill you," Dean scowled, throwing down the menu in disgust, gagging.

"It's a vegetarian restaurant Dean," Sam sighed. 

"Tofu soup?" Dean read, his face screwing up more and more with each option he spoke aloud, "Kale and Lettuce Wrap? What are you, a psycho rabbit?"

"It's called being healthy Dean," Sam said, closing the menu after he knew what he wanted. 

"It's called a vegetable cult. Disgrace to humanity," Dean mumbled. 

"Hey can I take your orders?" 

Dean looked up and his face went from disgust to adoration in a span of a second. He flashed a charming smile and winked, "Hey."

"Hey yourself. What brings you out to this town?" The waitress' name was Rachel and she grinned back at Dean, blushing and tucking hard behind her ear. 

Dean flashed his badge all cool like and Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes giving her a nod. 

"Federal business," Dean said in a low voice. 

"Oh, about the deaths?" she asked softly. "Such terrible things. But I'm glad to have such smart, strong, men on the case."

"Why thank you," Dean perked up, grinning at her. 

"Have you decided what you want to order yet?" she asked casually, her eyes still on Dean as she pulled a note pad out of her front pocket. 

"Yeah, I'll have the vegetable paella," Sam smiled quickly, and just to spite Dean he said, "my brother here wasn't a big fan of anything on the menu- ow-"

"Oh Sammy watch your foot," Dean lied, giving Sam a tight smile before turning to face the waitress, "He's just messing with you. Vegetarian food has always been my passion."

Rachel laughed lightly, "Mine too!"

"Yeah, our mom used to make a great lentil soup, inspired me every day. Keeps me going even now, you know? The smell in the kitchen, the heat of the stove...can't get better than mom's cooking." Dean said emotionally.

Sam looked at him in disbelief of his idiosyncrasy because their mother had never been able to cook a dang thing without burning it but Sam kept his mouth shut, knowing Dean's foot was ready to strike once more. He hid a grin, suppressing an annoyed sigh as Rachel seemed to buy it, placing at hand to her heart, "Oh that's so sweet."

Dean flashed a smile, moving his elbows in a cocky fashion before he smoothly said, "I'll take the tofu burger please? Thank you."

"Oh, good choice. You'll love it, I promise," she grinned, giving Dean one last look before she turned around and walked away. Dean watched her go and then turned back to Sam, kicking him in the shin for the second time. "Really?"

"Enjoy your tofu burger," Sam snickered, rubbing his sore shin. 

"Yeah, I will thank you. At least it's got the word burger in it. What did you get a pal-la-lela or something-" Dean scrunched his nose up. 

"Paella," Sam corrected. 

"Whatever. Dude, you're not even vegetarian though," Dean protested. 

"I mean we can leave," Sam suggested, just as Rachel smiled at Dean from behind the counter. 

Dean waved and winked at her and she blushed and turned away. Through the side of his mouth he hissed to Sam, "I hate you."

Sam pulled out his laptop, "You too bro."

When their food finally came, Sam was knee deep into research and Dean was knee deep into his second milkshake. Rachel set the platters down, staring extra long at Dean and Sam rolled his eyes, giving her another quick smile and taking Dean's plate for him because the two were busy soul gazing.

"Let me know if you need anything," she said, still looking at Dean. 

"Yeah, can I actually get more coffee?" Sam asked, raising his cup. 

Rachel nodded, Dean still grinning at her and she picked up Dean's cup, filled it, set it down in front of him and then turned to walk away. 

Sam set down his empty cup and looked at his brother in awe. Dean snickered. "Want some coffee Sammy?"

"Shut up," Sam grumbled. "Just, listen to this. 2 people in the town lived in two of the places where, in corresponding dates, the killings took place. Rakshasas don't hunt in pairs so it has to be one, the other has to be a fluke I'm guessing."

"Ok, do you have the 2 people's names?" Dean asked, "because that would be helpful."

"Well, like the sheriff told us, they cleared the database," Sam winced, shrugging, "Any file on the two no names would be in the sheriff's office, as a hard copied record. So that's the only lead we got."

"We'll check there tomorrow," Dean nodded, before he waved his hand asking, "and did you find anything on why Megan and Brian were the ones torn to shreds?" Dean asked, still gazing at the counter. 

"While you've been all googly eyes for Mrs. Perfect over there?" Sam sighed, turning the computer around. "Yeah I did actually."

Dean's head snapped back and he sipped his milkshake, eyeing his tofu burger with concern.

"They don't relate. At all," Sam said officially. He let Dean scroll through the many pages he had pulled up and leaned back in his seat. Taking a few bites of his steaming dinner he shrugged. 

"These monsters don't hunt with a motive. They just want to survive. They eat to stay alive. The people at the carnival weren't connected in any way, so knowing if these 2 are, well that's probably not going to help us," Sam pointed out. 

Dean shrugged, "Fair enough. At least we've got two targets. But dang this sucker is tough. I mean first, pretending to be a fiance, and now, picking the same town as someone else in the neighborhood? He or she's got this planned down to the dime."

"That also means we've go to watch our backs," Sam pointed out. 

"I watch your back," Dean said firmly.

"Yeah, I know you do," Sam sighed, looking at his older brother who was loudly sipping on the last of his milkshake. Then Sam grinned, noticing he was avoiding his main course, "Try your tofu burger Dean. Rachel's watching."

Dean's head snapped over to Rachel who was giving him a thumbs up and thumbs down, asking if he liked it. Dean turned his head and took a deep breath, making a face before he picked up the burger and took a huge bite, chewing and turning to Rachel with a big thumbs up and mouth full. 

She grinned and ducked behind the counter and Dean grabbed the napkin to his left, spitting out the burger and shuddering, "Oh God. Oh _God. _That's disgusting."

Sam laughed and dug into his dinner, closing the laptop. Watching Dean try and finish off the tofu burger was hilarious and Sam could barely keep a striaght face. 

"I'm never reading again," Dean swore. 

Sam laughed, wanting to ask how that connected to the tofu burger, but not wanting his brother to get all pissy. At the end of the night, Rachel handed them the check before winking at Dean and walking away.

Sam paid the bill, putting his wallet back into his pocket before he rose to leave. Dean tossed him the car keys and Sam instinctively caught them, raising an eyebrow. 

Dean grinned and showed off the piece of paper that had been slipped under his plate when Rachel had come by. It read: _I get off in 10. ;)_

He wiggled his eyebrows, "Her shift gets off soon. You head home Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Have fun."

"Will do," Dean grinned, standing and putting on his jacket. He flipped up his collar and raised an eyebrow, "How do I look?"

"Like an idiot," Sam nodded, chuckling to himself before he waved Dean away and walked out the door. Then he turned back, checking his watch, "Hey, I'm gonna swing by the sheriff's ok? See if I can grab those files, it's still early."

"The night is young Sammy. But I'm gonna have a better one than you," Dean grinned. 

"Ok Dean," Sam snorted, rolling his eyes. He pushed through the door, hearing the tiny bell at the top signal his exit. As he walked along the side of the restaurant, Sam sighed, seeing Dean cozy up next to Rachel through the glass. After making a face at Dean and his older brother catching his eye and giving him an A ok sign, Sam slid into the car seat, putting his backpack into the seat next to him, careful of his precious laptop. As Sam put on his seat belt he saw the waitress writing something on his hand, probably her phone number. Dean moved in for the kiss and Sam scoffed.

"Would you like some more coffee Sammy?" Sam mocked his older brother and rolled his eyes.

He revved the engine, one more time than Dean usually liked after turning the car on and his brother flipped him off behind his back while still kissing Rachel. Sam laughed to himself, revving the engine one more time just for kicks before he out the car in reverse, looking back over the seat and pulling out of the space. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
Stay tuned for 3!!! I hope u liked it <3


	3. Scratched the Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am sooooooooo so sorry for the wait on this one. Life has been hectic and I had to put writing on the back burner. This chapter's kinda short compared to first 2 I know, forgive me Free time has been super scarce  
:(  
I hope you enjoy this one though!! <3

The drive to the sheriff's was a quiet one and the parking lot was mostly empty. Sam didn't see the sheriff's car but he still got out, walking to the front door. He showed his badge to the camera and the door clicked. Sam entered and Melvin, the deputy, greeted him.

"Agent," he said cheerfully.

"Hey, I'm looking for the sheriff, is he around?" Sam asked.

"He actually is at Deborah's right now, he left a couple minutes ago. He said he would be back in an hour, so... can I help you?" Melvin asked.

Sam gave him a lopsided smile, "I don't know. You don't have access to the town records, do you? Past history, locations of residents, stuff like that? I saw it was cleared from the database."

"Yea, I do. Follow me," he waved Sam forward, walking down the hallway into another room with filling cabinets.

"Can you be more specific?" Melvin asked nervously, as if he was afriad he was going to have to go through every single one.

Sam laughed and read out what he had researched during dinner, giving the deputy a time frame and a couple dates and regions to go by. Within 10 minutes they had found what they were looking for and Sam picked up a box that had 2 folders sitting inside of it.

"Mind if I take this?" Sam asked, hefting the box in one hand.

Melvin shook his head, "Be my guest."

Sam nodded.

Then the deputy stopped him, "Can I ask you a professional question. Out of curiosity." When Sam nodded he pursed his lips, "Are they in trouble? Do you think someone from our town did all of this? Killed anyone I mean."

"No," Sam smiled, despite the fact that it was hardly a professional question, "Just, may have some connections or ties, that's all. Thanks. Tell the sheriff I stopped by ok? And tell him I may have a lead. If he needs anything, we're staying at the West End Hotel? Room 17. Got that?"

Melvin's eyes flicked up as if he ran the name over in his head and then he nodded, "Got it."

"And do you have a number i could contact you with for any chance?" Sam asked, "It seems like the sheriff is always busy."

"Yeah, with these murders," Melvin shook his head, handing him a card. "Good luck agent."

"Thanks," Sam said, walking down the hallway and out the door with the box in his hand. He got into the Impala, setting the box on the seat next to him and driving down the road. 

About 30 minutes after he drove off the Sheriff opened the door, "Melvin- I- why is that door open?"

Melvin jumped up, cursing himself for not locking the door, "Sorry sir, I was just-"

"What were you doing in there?" Issac asked suspiciously, walking toward the deputy who darted away with his key.

"The federal agent sir," Melvin responded, closing the door to the record room and locking it firmly. He gulped at his mistake, "he came in about 20 minutes ago asking about the records."

"What did he want?" Issac demanded.

"A file. The records of some residents," Melvin recalled.

The sheriff's face went pale and he glared at Melvin, "Be more specific."

"He said that the information he wanted was cleared from the database," Melvin studied, "And that he had a lead. He asked for some simple information. Past residency that's all-"

"And you let him take it?" Issac yelled.

"Sir, those are classified for the every day person," Melvin protested. "The state is above us, they have full jurisdiction over the-"

"I don't give a crap about jurisdiction!" Isaac screamed, and Melvin flinched, inching toward the door, fearful of seeing his boss like this.

"Did he say anything esle?" the sheriff seethed.

"He was staying at the West End motel," Melvin said slowly. "Room 17. And to call if you needed anything."

Issac replayed that in his head and then looked up slowly.

The deputy stuttered, Sir, what's going on? What was in that file?"

Issac looked up at him sadly, "I'm sorry you ever got involved in this."

"Sir-"

Before the man could even scream the sheriff pulled out his gun and fired. Melvin collapsed backward, the bullet hitting it's target. He slid to the floor, leaving a smear of blood down the wall.

Issac shrugged and put his pistol back, breathing an exasperated sigh. Then he put on his jacket and walked out the door.

Dean spent about an hour and a half chatting with Rachel. Well, "chatting". She was really great- could hold her own, smart, mature, beautiful... 

"You want the last bit?" she asked, pointing to the smoothie they had been sharing. "Come on, I can get them any time and you're only in this town for a little while."

Dean obliged, not about to turn down an offer like that. He turned to her and said, "You're amazing."

"You're such a flirt Dean Frehley," she shook her head, looking at him with such affection.

Dean was about to kiss her again when suddenly her phone rang.

"Hold that thought," she said, biting her lip and Dean grinned. She reached for her purse and answered. Meanwhile, Dean picked up the empty cup and went around to the kitchen to put it in the sink. Even through the swinging door he heard her arguing with someone, her tone sharp but pleading. He tried not to listen to the conversation they were having, so he pretended to be surprised at her look of disappointment and guilt when she finally hung up, slamming the phone on the counter.

"Dean, I'm- I'm sorry. I have to go," she said sadly. 

"Why?" Dean lied, pretending he didn't hear the angry banter. 

"My landlord. I have to take care of paperwork, otherwise I lose my apartment, it's been a rough week. Oh, it's not even that late," she sounded frustrated and she looked up at Dean.

"You understand, right?" she asked weakly. 

He flashed her a smile and kissed her lightly, "Yeah, I get it."

"I'll drive you back?" she offered. "Your brother kinda...took your car." 

Dean held out his arm as a mock gentlemen and Rachel grinned, hopping down from the stool and taking his arm. As she closed the door she smiled shyly at him, "I had a really good time tonight. You're like nobody I've ever met."

"I get that a lot. I guess I'm just one of a kind," Dean winked. 

"Am I gonna be in danger, being seen with you?" she asked, teasing. 

Dean forced a smile, faltering. He knew she meant about him being FBI, but his work was dangerous, and any monster that saw Dean with her might think of her as a target. The worst part of this job was not being able to have relationships. Dean's smile turned sad and he put his arm around her, "I'm not letting anything happen to you."

"Wow," she patted his chest lightly and went to lock the door, "Just met and you're already my hero."

Dean grinned and followed her to her car, quickly texting Sam: **Heading back **

Sam reached over and grabbed the box as he parked the car in the lot by the hotel. Then he blinked. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, surprised he was tired. He picked up the box and carried it to the door, propping it up on his knee as he opened the door. Sam walked in, turning on the lights. He sat down on his bed, loosening his tie and taking off his shoes before he pulled out the first vanilla folder, squinting at the name.

The first name on the top strip of the first one read: Dakota Jenning. He and Dean would have to look into her later. But the next one was more familiar and it made Sam suck in a breath.

Issac K. Wright

Sam shot up straight, his mind spinning. The sheriff. He grabbed his computer out of his bag and desperately typed, hacking into residency records back 200 years. Rakshasas lived longer than normal humans, he knew that.

"Fire in Oklahoma town...5 dead, unexplained death, torn to bits..."

"Man found dead shredded to bone in Oregon. No witnesses. No suspects-"

Sam typed and scrolled and typed some more, his eyes scanning screen after screen, flying through words. He pulled out the file and ran his finger over the destinations in the top right of the pages. 

"Oklahoma...Oregon-"

That was good enough for him. Who would suspect him anyway. Brian was his friend. He was the sheriff for gosh sakes. But wait...30 years ago...

The Sheriff had said that he had worked here for 11 years. Sam went back through his record, and confirmed that. The sheriff had moved here 11 years ago, which was a solid 15 years after the killings took place. So who had killed the first time around? Sam could only worry about one monster at a time. He shoved his laptop back into his bag and grabbed the Impala's keys. 

The sheriff was coming back. He would figure out what Sam asked to take out of records. Issac would know he was onto him and Melvin would be the reason why he got his lead. And Melvin would be his target. He would shoot the deputy. If Dean were here, he would make a joke about that. DEAN! Sam pulled out his phone as crossed the room and opened the door. It was then he saw Dean's message that he hadn't looked at a couple minutes ago while researching.

**Heading back**

Sam quickly went back to his bed and slid out the file on the sheriff, setting it flat on his bed so Dean couldn't miss it. His brother had worked enough hunts with him to know what he was up to, and while Dean probably wouldn't like it, Sam had to take care of this.

He closed and locked the door and then ran across the parking lot. Sam slid in the driver's seat and threw his phone to the right. Sam shoved the car into reverse and practically spun it out of the space, ripping the wheel around and shoving it back into drive before the car even made a 180, skidding out of the parking lot. He sped onto the main road and slammed down hard on the breaks, knowing full well that Dean wouldn't have liked the stress he put on the Impala's engine. He sped back down the road and dialed Melvin's number. 

"Melvin? Hello! Hello! Darn it-" Sam hung up angrily, speeding back to the station as fast as he could. Sam sped down the road, his mind whirling, trying to piece this together. When he got there, the sheriff's car was still not there, and Sam hoped it wasn't because he had already been there and left so he didn't have to clean up a mess. 

Sam ran to the door and shoved it open, flying through the front hallway. He stopped in the main lobby. 

"Hello! Melvin?" Heck. "Sheriff!"

Nothing. 

Sam rushed to the sheriff's room but before he could he noticed a trail of blood on the wall, hidden by the high desk where he had once been standing. 

"Oh God..." Sam cautiously walked over and slumped his shoulders. He had been to late. Melvin lay with a bullet in his forehead, bleeding out, eyes staring straight up and glossed over. Sam knelt by his side and dared to check for the non existent pulse. 

Sam rubbed a hand over his face and then tried to think. If the sheriff had been here...where was he now? He would have known Sam figured it out- the hotel. Sam had told Melvin his room number of which hotel he was staying at. Crap. Sam wasn't there- but the sheriff wouldn't know that. He'd be heading there now. Oh no. 

Dean.

Dean held her door open for her like a gentleman and Rachel laughed, sliding in. Dean winked and went around the front, taking his spot in the passengers seat next to her. 

"Which motel again? The one of Bradson?"

"West End hotel," Dean said, putting on his seat belt. 

Rachel nodded. The drive back was no different than the restaurant. He talked and laughed, flirting with Rachel the whole way. Dang, he liked this girl a lot. When they finally pulled up, Dean was sad to go and he looked over at Rachel who shared the same look of disappointment. 

"I'm so-" she tried to apologize again but Dean cupped the back of her neck and kissed her. Rachel kissed him back, tugging on his jacket and then they pulled away. 

"You have my number. You better not leave without saying goodbye," she warned. "I'll track you down, even if you are FBI."

"You won't have to," he assured her, giving her one last smile before he got out of the car, shutting it behind him. 

"You'll get in ok?" she called out the window. 

Dean grinned, nodding, "I can handle myself ma'am," he mocked.

Rachel let out a light laugh, "Bye Dean."

She drove off and Dean watched her go. When her car dissapeared around the corner, he whistled to himself, congratulating himself for a good night. Dean smiled to himself, licking his lips once before he scratched for his hotel key at the bottom of his jacket pocket.

The Impala was absent from the parking lot and immediately Dean sucked in a breath. No. Where's baby? What did Sam do??? If his brother so much as _scratched _that car he would kill him. Kill him dead. He stormed into their room, turning the key in the door and opening it, prepared to shout his brother who was probably asleep. He opened the door and let out a yell.

"WHERE'S MY CAR SAM!" He did a double take. The lights were still on, but the room was empty. 

He spun once, "Sam? Sammy?"

He looked around the room again, knowing it was not possible he missed his brother who was even taller than him. He pushed open the bathroom door in confusion. 

"What the heck Sam?" he muttered to himself, trying to think at where Sam had gone. He called Sam's phone, waiting for the dial tone. He anxiously waiting, biting his nails in anticipation. Sam's voicemail started and Dean angrily hung up the phone. Then he noticed a file on his brother's bed. He picked it up and pulled out the main wad of paper. Before Dean could even read the name at the top, he jumped at a loud noise at the door. 

BANG BANG BANG

Dean's head snapped to face the door, dropping the file back onto the bed and pulling out his gun.

BANG BANG BANG

He stood slowly, leveling his pistol and taking a cautious step forward. The next thing he heard through any attempt at subtly out the frickin window.

"DEAN!"

Something snapped in Dean who immediately recognized his brother's paniced voice. In two strides he was at the door, yelling, "SAMMY!" He unlocked and threw open the door, revealing his younger brother, bleeding and clutching his side, leaning against the door frame.

"Holy- jeez man! What happened to you?" Dean cried, reaching out to his brother.

"Dean," Sam mumbled, as if that was all he could say. He tried to step forward, staggering a bit into Dean's grasp.

"Sammy, get inside, get inside, come on, I've got ya-" Dean grabbed his shoulders, catching him before he fell and looping his brother's arm around his shoulders as he led him inside and set him on his own bed.

Dean cupped Sam's's cheek, steadying his lolling head, "Sam! Stay with me, stay with me, ok? Eyes on me."

Sam made a grunt of understanding and nodded slowly, coughing up blood.

"What happened?" Dean asked angrily, bending down to grab his first aid kit from under the bed. 

"Got jumped," Sam coughed harshly. 

Dean frowned to himself, still fumbling with supplies in the first aid kit. Sam looked pretty beaten up...it didn't seem like a kind of thing where he got jumped. Something was off. Now that he was dwelling on it, something was way off. The way Sam had called his name...the pitch was wrong. He hadn't sagged into Dean's arms like he usually did. Just being next to him wasn't normal. 

"You're rusty Sam," Dean smirked. 

"Yeah, yeah," Sam winced. 

Dean still fiddled with the gauze, trying to act natural. "Jumped?"

"Yeah," Sam said, coughing up blood. It hurt Dean to the core to not believe this was his brother just yet, in this much pain. 

Dean backtracked at the sound of the voice crack his brother let out but he forced himself to continue with his original plan, which was to get to his gun which he tossed to the floor a couple feet away. He reached for his pistol, hoping Sam wouldn't notice and to his relief, Sam hadn't yet; his brother was still holding his head in pain, his eyes scrunched shut. 

"You ok little brother?" he asked cautiously, his fingers clutching the base of the gun and getting a good grip on it. He slowly brought it closer to him. Sam had yet to raise his head.

"Oh yea, great," Sam scoffed, wincing. His brother's face contorted into pain and Dean hitched a breath, scared he made a mistake.

Dean's senses spiraled out of control, unsure what to do. What if this actually was Sam? He would have a rough time explaining this one. But no. He trusted his instinct. His father had always said they both had a 6th sense about each other, knowing when the other wasn't himself, metaphorically, and in their family business, literally. Dean decided to trust that instinct and he raised the gun.

Then he nearly jumped out of his skin. Sam was staring at him with glowing yellow eyes and a cocked head, 3 inches closer than he had originally been. "You boys know each other too well."

Dean cursed and tried to shoot but the Rakshasa was obviously faster and stronger, slapping the pistol away and kicking Dean in the chest. Dean's gun flew out of his hand as he crashed into the dresser, crumpling to the floor, groaning.

"What did you do to my brother?" Dean coughed out. In seconds Sam- well it obviously wasn't Sam- was on him, gripping him by the collar and raising him to his feet. 

"Nothing actually, you'll be happy to know. I wanted Sammy instead, but I guess you'll have to do," the monster snarled, shaking him effortlessly, raising him an inch of the ground. 

"It's Sam to you, you son of a-" Dean said angrily, before he was suddenly choked, a massive hand closing around his neck.

"Cat got your tongue Dean?" The Rakshasa taunted. 

"Bite me," Dean choked out. 

"I don't work like that," the monster corrected.

Dean clutched at the hand around his throat, "Oh that's right. 'Tear me to bits.' You're the Rakshasa-"

"And I thought Sam was the brains of the operation," the monster mocked. He threw Dean down and kicked him in the face. Dean coughed and tried to get to his feet but then suddenly the man was gone.

"I forgot you suckers turned invisible," Dean groaned, scrambling up to his elbows.

"You just had to keep digging, didn't you?" 

Dean sucked in a breath, trying to move backward but he was too late. Out of nowhere, he saw the base of his lamp coming at him impossibly fast and all Dean could think of was how much it was gonna hurt as it connected with his forehead, sending him crashing onto his back against the floor. Pain spiraled across his head and Dean collapsed, his head lolling to the side. Everything went black.

"DEAN!" he said again into the phone, calling for the 3rd time. This time he left a voicemail, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Answer your phone. Where are you man? Look, it's the sheriff, he's the Rakshasa. I went back to the station and found Melvin- that deputy, dead, maybe because he told the sheriff that I went looking through the papers. I'm heading back to the hotel ok, and I know you said you were leaving a while ago so you should be there now. Look at the file on my bed, read it. And then call me back, I'm on my way. God help me if you're asleep."

Sam let out a worried sigh, "Just answer your phone so I know your ok. Ok? Please." He hung up and pressed down on the accelerator harder.

When he finally got back to the hotel he breathed a sigh of relief. The light was on in the hotel room and Sam got out of the car, digging the key out of his pocket and walking across the sidewalk. Then everything went to crap.

The first thing that caught his eye was the blood on the door frame...smeared like someone had grasped it trying to keep themselves standing. Sam frowned and his hand went to his pistol, leveling it as he tried the door and found it open.

"Crap," Sam cussed and pushed the door fully open with his gun.

He walked in and called out hesitantly. "Dean?" The room was empty. He turned, scanning the room with his pistol, searching every corner. If this was a practical joke it wasn't funny. Sam slammed the bathroom door open, and checked in there, then the closet, making his way back across the room in one stride. What the heck?

"Dean?"

He turned around again and that's when he saw a small stain on his comforter. That wasn't even the thing that shocked him. What shocked him was that Dean's comforter was straight. He never straightened his comforter. Sam had shared enough hotel rooms with his brother to know that. It was then that Sam realized it was upside down and he quickly flipped it up. Blood was stained on the blanket that was deliberately flipped to hide it.

He looked over at his bed where he had left the file and found it gone. Dean had been here...but where was he now?

"What the heck?" He ran his hands over the dried stain, looking around in confusion. Then he looked back out at the door he left open. Maybe he was outside.

Getting worried, Sam called his phone again and let it go to voicemail. He let his hand fall to his side, hanging up the call, his phone dropping back into his deep pocket. Determination set in and Sam stormed outside, worry and protectiveness filling his chest with warmth. If Issac had done something to Dean...

Sam circled the parking lot again, retracing his steps and yelling his brother's name, searching the bushes, spinning in worried circles, his eyes wife with fear, his breath picking up.

"DEAN!"

Then suddenly his phone rang and Sam almost fell over his own two feet in haste to pick it up. But his heart fell when he realized it wasn't Dean. 

"Hello?"

_"Hello, Agent? This is Alice Fox."_

Sam suppressed an annoyed tone, "Alice this is a really bad time-"

_"You told me to call if I saw anything weird or suspicious,"_ she snapped, clearly hearing the anger in his voice and not having it._ "Well I saw that car again. The tan Nissan?"_

Sam's eyes widened and he said, "Where? Where Alice?"

_"Don't use that tone with me boy,"_ she snarled and Sam almost cursed, but realized he had been rather rude.

"Sorry. What did you see?"

_"There was someone in the backseat. I have it on my security camera, passed right by my house."_

"Stay right there, I'm coming," Sam said firmly. "Thank you. Thank you!"

Sam jumped into the Impala and sped down the road, vowing that if Issac did _anything _to Dean he was going to find him and kill him. No one touched his older brother. Sam was the protective one for once and he didn't even care. 

Dean groaned, blinking and jerking awake. He winced at the pain in his head and shook out the dizziness. 

"Ow." Dean looked around. 

"Hey there, Dean-o. I mean, hunters is one thing- I should have known.” There was a pause and then the voice crept up on him, someone walking in behind him. “But oh no, it’s not just any hunters...it’s the famous Winchesters! Just my luck.”

Dean's head spun on a swivel and he saw the sheriff standing there, leaning against the edge of the wall in the hallway. The older Winchester forced a laugh, "And it's the sheriff! Who would have thought?"

"Your brother actually," Issac nodded, almost impressed. He walked to Deans side and grinned, "Yeah, he figured me out."

"Yeah well, Sammy's good at that," Dean winked cockily. 

"Tried to warn you too," Issac laughed, digging into his pocket. He held up Dean's phone and pushed his voicemail button. 

_"Answer your phone. Where are you man? Look, it's the sheriff, he's the Rakshasa. I went back to the station and found Melvin- that deputy, dead, maybe because he told the sheriff that I went looking through the papers. I'm heading back to the hotel ok, and I know you said you were leaving a while ago so you should be there now. Look at the file on my bed, read it."_

Dean cursed himself for not looking sooner. Maybe he would have figured it out earlier.

_"And then call me back, I'm on my way. God help me if you're asleep. _ _Just answer your phone so I know your ok. Ok? Please."_

The sheriff shrugged, "Guess I got there first."

"You killed your deputy?" Dean stated, twisting in his bonds. His wrists and ankles were tied behind him in a chair, knotted tightly and expertly. It would be hard getting out of these.

"He jeopardized me," the sheriff pointed out. "No one was in the station. I'm a good shot."

"You didn't chew him up?" Dean asked, "Why?"

"Wasn't hungry," the sheriff grinned. 

"Oh that's nice," Dean smiled fakely. 

"Once I realized your brother was onto me, I went back to the station, but turns out, he must have made the trip back, and we must have done a full loop. How ironic."

"Downright hilarious."

The sheriff punched him across the face and Dean coughed, shaking out the sting. Then he grinned, "That was almost as hard as the lamp. Nice punch."

"Yeah well you needed to lighten up before," Issac grinned. 

"Oh, bringing out the dad jokes? Just kill me now," Dean scoffed.

"I wish I could Dean," Issac admitted. "But i really, really wanted your brother instead. And you're the perfect bait for little Sammy."

"It's Sam to you," Dean snapped, yanking on his ropes with a glare on his face.

"Oh I get it. You're the only one who gets to call him Sammy, is that it?" Issac mocked. 

"Yeah 'that's it'," Dean snarled back. 

The sheriff punched him again, this time in the stomach and Dean doubled over only to have his head forced up by Issac's firm grip on his hair. 

"So what's the plan cheif?" Dean slurred, spitting out blood and trying to twist from the sheriff's grasp. "You wanted Sam, you got the better looking brother. Did I mess up your little plan?"

He had gathered that Issac obviously didn't have Sam, and that he didn't know where he was, which was all good news. Bad news was that Dean was in the same boat. If Sam got hut or in trouble...Dean couldn't get to him. He had to get out of here, now. 

The sheriff let go of his hair and grinned, crouching in front of Dean, who would have kicked him in the face if his ankles hadn't been tied. "You're gonna call your brother, tell him where you are, and get him to come here. Then I'm gonna give you off to the highest bidder, and get my reward."

Dean recoiled, "Excuse me?"

The Rakshasa laughed, "I've had my fill for my next 20 years. But capturing the Winchesters..." he patted Dean on the cheek harshly, so it was more of a slap. The older Winchester winced, watching the sheriff wearily as he paced around the room. "There are plenty of monsters more pissed off than me who want you dead, or rather, who would want to eat you."

"Oh that's flattering," Dean winked, twisting his hands in his bonds. "I can't blame them. I bet I taste good," he grinned. 

"Oh that's right," the sheriff stood up. You always were the smart alec of the two."

Dean wiggled his eyebrows, “Glad I didn’t disappoint.”

The sheriff doesn’t acknowledge Dean’s stab at humor, instead he grabs a handkerchief from his pocket and walks behind Dean.

The Rakshasa suddenly spoke in Dean's voice and the older Winchester cursed, remembering their ability to shapeshift. "Call him. Or I will." He held up the gag.

Dean forced a gulp as Issac took Dean's phone out of his pocket. Just then it rang and the sheriff laughed. "Speaking of the devil."

He looked back and forth from the gag and Dean, realizing he wouldn't have time to restrain the older Winchester in time for the call to stay on. He took out his gun and leveled it to Dean's knee. 

"I bet you want to run again, yes?"

"Yeah, that would be helpful," Dean admitted, earning a smack in the head. 

Issac answered the phone and held it up to Dean's ear. 

"Hey Sammy," Dean said, well aware of the muzzle digging into his kneecap. 

_"Dean!"_

Dean felt actual pain hearing the relief in his brother's voice.

"Thank_ God! I saw the blood on the comforter, you opened the file right-"_

"Yeah, the sheriff. Who would have known?" Dean spoke calmly.

_"He killed Melvin, did you get my message- hey, where are you?"_

"Checking a hunch. This is a really funkytown ain't it?" Dean laughed lightly.

Sam paused for a second and Dean knew his brother understood.

_"Hey listen. I think we need to rethink this case. There's something else going on here man, I know it."_

Dean was wondering why Sam was still talking. He had given the code word, he needed to wrap this up before Issac got suspicious. 

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, wincing and glaring at the sheriff who dug the pistol in further. 

_"The other set of murder strings that happened 30 years ago? They have nothing to do with the sheriff. 11 years ago, remember he said he moved here 11 years ago? I checked it out and he wasn't lying on that part. So that means we've got two Rakshasas on our hands. And I don't think either of them know it."_

Dean felt a sudden release of the gun against his knee and the sheriff looked up in confusion. Dean suppressed a massive grin. 

_"Hey so I'm taking one stop on a lead and then I'll meet you. Where are you?"_

Dean felt Issac suddenly leap forward, clamping a hand down on Dean's mouth before he could stutter a fake address or ruin whatever plan this idiot had.

"Yeah, uh, lemme just check. 7689 Willburry Road. It's the chic's house," Issac imitated perfectly. Anyone but Sam would have been fooled.

_"Got it. Be safe."_

"You too."

_"Jerk."_

"Whatever," Issac said back. 

'Whatever'

Dean snickered under the hand that was covering his mouth tightly. Even if Sam hadn't gotten the code word, that was strike 2.

Issac hung up the phone and then punched Dean across the head. The older Winchester was laughing the minute the hand was unclenched around his mouth. 

"You're...an...idiot," Dean gasped out, shaking his head of dizziness. "You're underestimating my brother."

"I hope so Dean-o," Issac said, socking Dean one in the stomach and then yanking his head up. "I like a challenge."

Dean headbutted the sheriff right in the face, not caring about the slowly forming bruise and concussion he knew that caused him. 

Issac snarled. The punch came faster than Dean expected and with 20 times the force. His chair went toppling to the side and Dean groaned. The sheriff yanked the chair up and his face of triumph twisted into a frown when he saw Dean's expression. 

"Can we talk about how scared you got when Sam mentioned the double monster whamie?" Dean pouted his lower lip. "Does someone need a hug?"

"Shut up," Issac seethed, landing his knuckles right into Dean's jaw.

"Afraid someone's gonna steal your thunder? Or cursing yourself for not even knowing? It could be your neighbor for all you know," Dean pointed out, loving to get under the guy's skin. 

"I have to ask though," Dean mentioned, sinking casually into his chair and shrugging, "Why kill the only guy who could be friends with a douche bag like you? I mean Brian seemed nice. Or are you one of those fake Regina George type girls-"

Issac had clearly had enough and the next punch got Dean right across the face. He slammed his hands down on the sides of the chair, getting face to face with Dean who winked. 

"Oof, sorry man, I don't swing that way," Dean grinned. 

"You want to get under my skin? Find out what makes me tik? I know your weakness too Dean Winchester. Everyone does. So when little Sammy comes waltzing in here and I get the jump on him-"

Dean looked up at Issac with a cold glare, his green eyes stabbing and fierce. "You touch my brother and I'll kill you, I swear to God."

"I'm gonna make him scream," Issac grinned. "Before I kill him, right in front of you."

The older Winchester yanked on his bonds, snarling. "You're not getting anywhere _near _him you sadistic bastard," Dean swore. 

"I'll hold you too that," Issac grinned, giving Dean's hair a rough tussle. Dean saw the punch coming and didn't even care. He didn't even feel it hit. The cold green eyes bore down on the sheriff and although he would never admit it, the monster had never been that scared from a look in a very, very long time. 

First clue. Funkytown. The sheriff had obviously got to his brother, because of Sam's careless thinking. He had a gun to him, or he was held hostage. He had scribbled down the address that Dean had given him, his brother's voice calm and collected as it usually was.

It was that voice that eased Sam's fears when he was a kid too, either during Halloween when there were nothing but clowns, or when he had broken his arm and Dean had been the one to make sure he was ok and take him to the hospital on his handlebars.

Second clue. Whatever. Yeah, definitely not his brother. He even heard the slight change of voice. After knowing his brother for over 3 decades, and hearing him speak, sing, shout, whisper, heck even cry, Sam knew Dean's voice. And whoever had hung up on him was not Dean. 

Knowing his brother wasn't in immediate danger and that the Rakshasa, if that was what was holding Dean hostage, had him and wanted Sam to be there, Sam knew he had a couple minutes to spare. He did what Dean would have wanted him to do, and he went with his gut, knowing something was up, and if there was a second monster involved, he had to figure out who it was. He prayed Dean would keep his stupid mouth shut before the man got tired of his comebacks and one liners that always got him into trouble.

He hung up the phone and put it in his pocket before he got out of his car and raced up the stairs of the old creepy house. Sam knocked on the door to Alice's and waited impatiently for it to open. When it finally did he stepped inside. 

"Mrs. Fox, please, I don't have much time. Please, tell me what you saw," he said hurriedly. 

"What's the rush?" she asked, startled by his sudden burst. 

Sam winced, "Pardon me ma'am but my partner's in trouble, and I really need to see this tape you have. I think it might lead me to him."

"Yes, well, this way," she led him down the hall into a messy room with files, bookshelves and a computer set that had wires running down the walls, connected to old cameras of all sorts. 

"Anything past the 90's is spying on us," she explained the ancient tech she used. She typed into her computer and pulled up a tape. 

The feed was scratchy but Sam leaned in and saw the same tan Nissan, with someone in the front seat, fuzzy and breaking because of the static. Then, suddenly that person vanished into thin air, the car seemingly driving itself. Sam gave a sideways glance at Alice who was staring it in stale shock, shaking her head in confusion. The younger Winchester turned his attention back to the tape and squinted. In the backseat of the trashy car was a slumped form, the man's head against the window unmoving. Sam knew right away it was Dean. 

Anger piled up in his chest and he curled his fist. "Can you, rewind that please?"

Alice obliged and Sam tried to make out the license plate. 

"Can you pleas explain how someone can vanish into thin air for me Agent? I hope you can see what I'm seeing because that car is driving itself right there," she snapped, exasperated. 

Sam looked at her and winced, "There's a lot that you don't understand-"

"Then you better help me understand young man. This is my town and I want to know what the heck is going on. Strange cars. Murders. Invisible people. You better have some good explanation."

There was a long silence. Sam took one side glance at his brother in the backseat, unconcious and snarled, giving a loud sigh and taking a deep breath.

And so, right then and there, Sam then proceeded to give her the most shortened version of the talk that he could.

He ended with, "They're all real. And there's 2, in this town. One of them being the sheriff and he has my brother and he killed the deputy. I think this is him in this car. If you don't believe me, that's fine. But I'm telling the truth and out of all the other options, it's the most logical. Do you happen to have any more feed of where this car went after you took this video?" He demanded, stopping to breathe at the end of his question. 

Her face screwed up into a frown and she put her hands on her hips, "You can't just expect me to believe you and then-"

"Look lady," Sam shouted. "That?" He pointed fiercely at the screen. "That's my brother, and he's in trouble. If you do not have any other information you can give me on where this car went I will be leaving. I do not have time to have a freaking counseling session. You wanted the truth and I gave it to you. Now what you want to do with it is your business, but do not put my brother's life at risk because I have to waste time giving you a pat on the back."

Sam realized he had stood up and towered over the woman, breathing hard with a glare on his face and he rubbed his nose, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He lowered his voice, "Please. Can you help me or not?"

Alice was taken back by his boldness and she wasn't scared, more amused than anything. She pursed her lips and clicked into another file. Then she simply pointed. 

Sam gave her a tiny smile and leaned in to peer at the screen of the back of the car driving away. He caught the licence plate at the last second and paused the camera, whipping out a pen and starting to scribble it down on his hand. 

"Thank you Mrs. Fox. Really. Thank-"

Then there was an explosion of pain in the back of his head and Sam felt something slice into his head. His knees buckled as he collapsed, slamming against the table, sliding off and then crumpling to the ground in a heap. The pen fell out of his hand and rolled on the floor and Sam fought to stay awake, his eyes closing, pain tackling him in a firm trap. 

Alice set down the broken vase, shaking her head, her features changing to reveal her yellow eyes. They glowed and she grinned at the young hunter who looked up weakly, falling back against the desk, gasping. 

"You seemed like such a nice young man," she tisked, before she kicked Sam right in the forehead with the bottom of her heel. 

The younger Winchester's head slammed into the floor and his eyes rolled into the back of his head before he could even let out a groan of protest. Sam collapsed into unconsciousness, his brain echoing only one word. 

_Dean._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rip, the boys separated is never good. Tell me what you think! Thanks for reading <3


	4. Tables Have Turned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't we just love plot twists?? Chapter 4! A lot of Sam in this one <3 because we don't get enough protective and kickbutt Sam so I decided to make that happen. (Big bro protectiveness coming up, don't worry.)  
Enjoy!

Sam groaned and opened his eyes, blinking and groaning. He tries to make a sound but his voice is muffled.

"What the-" he mumbles.

Sam feels a gag in his mouth and suddenly snaps awake. He looks down in panic and yanks on his hands that were tied tightly behind him with thick cords. He jerks again, trying to break them but only succeeds in tightening them. Sam cursed and strained in his chair instead, looking around the room. He hears humming from the hallway and it suddenly gets louder- with footsteps too. Alice entered, holding another pot of that crap cider and Sam yanks on his wrists and glares at her, breathing hard through the gag.

"Oh, look who's finally up."

Sam tries to speak but the cloth prevents it and he bites down hard on the stupid thing, sucking a breath through gritted teeth. 

Alice tisks and walks over, the pot steaming. "Just give me a second, it won't matter if you scream anyway."

She walks over to him and crouches, setting the still hot base of the pot right down on Sam's knee. It immediately burns through his jeans and scorches his skin and he grit his teeth, letting out a muffled yell through the cloth that she had just tried to remove before he clenched down his teeth around it in pain. The smell of burning flesh meets his nose and Sam kicks his feet, trying to jostle the pot off. She picks it up after letting him suffer for one more second, holding his leg still. Then she tugs at the gag, letting it all around his neck as she laughs to herself. Sam shakes out his knee, still breathing hard and wincing in pain, not looking at the bad burn on his lower thigh. 

"You're the second one," he said, breathing hard. "The second Rakshasa, it's you."

"Very good," she slurred, giving him a rough pat on the cheek that Sam jerks away from. "Do you want a gold star?" 

Sam scoffed. "You need to let me go." He gave another rough yank on his bonds to see if they would loosen. 

"Afraid I can't. You're mine now. Now, I've never been much of a cook, more of a messy eater." She winked.

"So you're a comedic psychopath, got it," Sam gave her a fake smile. 

"You Winchesters. Always think they can get out of every single mess they get themselves into," she shook her head. 

Sam ignored the fact that he knew who he and Dean were, since their reputations had been getting pretty big for their britches lately. He grinned cockily. "Well it's worked so far."

"Not this time," she snarled. Then she picked up FBI badge that was sitting in the pile of his stuff she had obviously taken off of him. She had searched him pretty thoroughly, even finding the knife in his boot. "Nice fake badge."

"Thanks," Sam responded cooly. 

"I was never good with these," she admitted, aiming his own pistol at him. Sam went stiff in his chair, shifting his position nervously. He gulped, "Hey woah-"

The gun went off, letting out a massive bang and Sam couldn't help but flinch, squeezing his eyes shut. The wall exploded barely a foot to his right from where the bullet hit and he looked back with wide and fearful eyes. "Are you crazy?" he spluttered. 

"You're lucky I'm a bad shot. Part of me wanted to hit you."

"Nice to know," Sam said, his mouth dry. The sheriff was right, even if he was a Rakshasa, she was definitely worse. Alice was crazy- no wonder the town didn't believe a word she said. Even for a monster she was off her rocker. 

"Why did you help me?" Sam asked. "You knew who I was the minute I met you yesterday. Why didn't you just kill me then?"

"I've known there was someone else like me in this town," she shrugged, "If you got him first and left, I would be happy to do my own thing without interruptions. But you just had to go digging."

"That's what we do," Sam grinned, feeling for the small blade he had slipped into the curl of his flannel cuff. She had somehow missed it; his shirt was pretty thick and there wasn't much room to hide anything in there, but Sam had found a way, courtesy of his father.

_Put it where it's obvious Sam, not where they won't look, but where they'll easily miss._

He suppressed a wince as he stabbed himself in the finger with it.

Alice took out one of those meat cutting knives and gestured with it, making Sam flinch with every careless swing. "And now I guess I'm going to have to kill you, and then your brother."

"You're not getting Dean," Sam snarled instinctively, for a second not caring about his own safety. 

Alice let out a light laugh that was somehow more like a cackle then a giggle. "And they say _Dean's_ the protective one."

"Who's they?" Sam questioned, sliding the knife out and twisting his hands in his cords. 

"You don't get to know," she cut him off, pressing the tip against Sam's lips. He pressed them together and stared daringly. "You hunters think you rule the world. Get to decide when we live or die." 

The vengeful edge in her voice was a new level of crazy. She looked back cheerfully, "I will take you apart piece by piece Samuel Winchester. Slowly, don't worry."

"So you're just gonna kill me?" Sam scoffed, cutting off her monologue. "You've got to do better than that." 

He started rubbing the knife into the thickest cord; he had felt around with his fingers for a couple seconds, picturing how the cords were tied in his head and going for the one that would give him the most slack. If Alice found out he was getting loose, he'd need a quick get away. Rakshasas weren't human, and they had super strength, even if she was just some old lady. He also needed to stall. So stall he did. And he had maybe just dug his own grave; encouraging his captive to do something worse than kill him was never a good way to start a conversation.

Alice stopped, confused and amused by his choice of words. To be fair, even Sam was confused with what he had decided to say. But then again, he had always trusted his words. He could get out of anything with them. When Dean was more likely to use brawn, he would resort to brains and wit. It was something he was used to, since they were little, the reason why he had always wanted to become a lawyer. It was stupid. It was a long shot. It was a dumb attempt at conversation. But it was all he had. 

Alice walked closer, and Sam looked straight at her, trying not to stare at the massive shiny knife that she was holding a little to close to his face. He rubbed the tiny blade harder and faster against the bonds tying his wrists, feeling the cords slowly slacken.

"Better than that?" she repeated, "I take good care of my food Sammy," she assured him.

"It's Sam-" Sam corrected.

Alice narrowed her eyes and cut him off, jerking the knife up and slicing a cut into his cheek. Then she smiled sweetly, moving back some of Sam's bangs from his face with the sharp tip. The younger Winchester went still as she slid the knife across his forehead, flicking his hair. After a second or two, Sam had had enough and he snarled, jerking away, all while sticking the end of the knife into the last stubborn bit of cord. 

"You said you take 'good care' of your food? So, what, you season and saute people before you kill them? Wow, that's just great." Sam leaned as far away as he could and chuckled in a strained voice, trying not to show his fear.

Dean wasn't here to save him. If one of them got kidnapped, usually Sam, he always knew Dean would find him. But Sam had to get out of this himself and then go get his brother. He had to save his own butt this time, and Dean's.

"I use every part," she whispered, looking him over like he was her main course. 

"You need help lady," Sam scoffed, feeling his bonds loosen even more, the cords getting even easier to cut through. He felt it giving away and he twisted his hands again, almost able to slip out.

"It's what 250 years of living does to a person, even a monster like me," she grinned, cocking her head. There was a new crazed look in her eyes that Sam couldn't believe he hadn't notice before. Whatever shell or wall she had put up when she was 'Alice Fox' had broken. Now she was just downright insane.

"250? You don't look a day over 500," Sam shot back, but before she could get angry, he asked quickly. "What do you gain from killing me? I mean, if you want the fame, no one's going to believe you. A crackhead like you killed a Winchester? Yeah right." 

_snap_

The cords fell and Sam's eyes widened, looking to see if Alice had noticed, which she did, letting out a screech as Sam jumped from the chair and dove out of the way as she lunged with the knife. 

"You Winchesters," she spat angrily, advancing on him as Sam put up his fists. 

The hunter's eyes widened and he ducked, dodging a swipe from the knife. He moved aside for the second stab and caught the third as it went for his stomach, but the Rakshasa was obviously stronger, backing him into the wall and pressing against Sam's hands that were desperately pushing back to stop the knife from skewering him. The tip skimmed his shirt, ripping the fabric and Sam sucked in a breath, trying to give himself more space between the knife and his stomach.

The younger Winchester grit his teeth, letting out a yell as it slowly dug into his stomach, pain and blood spilling down his chest. His mind whirled and Sam risked taking one hand off the opposite tug of war game he had going on. The knife sank into his stomach even further, making Sam yell in pain but then he had a free hand to slam his elbow down onto Alice's arm. 

The woman hissed and pulled away, yanking the tip of the knife out of his chest. Sam had barely a second to recoil and refocus when the knife sliced him across the arm, leaving a red trail of fire along his sleeve and Sam let out a yell, throwing himself at the monster and shoving her against the wall before she could take another swing. The knife clattered to the floor and Sam slammed his hand against Alice's throat, holding her against the far wall.

"You looked through my stuff," he said calmly, ignoring the punches he got in his ribs. "That address on the paper, is that where Dean is?" he demanded. 

"I don't know," she made out, clawing at his hand. 

"I know you do. You called me here to trick me, because you know exactly where Dean is and you were gonna kill me and then have the sheriff kill Dean. Problem solved, Winchesters dead, no more hunters. Is that it?" With his brother's life on the line, Sam could be really scary.

He screamed, "Answer me!"

"He's there-" she pleaded, choking, "Please-"

"You had to have known there was a second freak in this town," Sam asked, pushing harder against the wall. 

"I did, he didn't. I cover my tracks- you never did think to look at my file did you?"

Sam knit his eyebrows. 

"I live in the shadows, I only need to kill 3 times-" she gasped for air, "every 50 years. I knew about Issac-" she coughed, "people never suspect 2 Rakshasas, do they Sam?"

Sam narrowed his eyes, "So you were the one who killed the people 30 years ago. And when you wanted more food, you followed the sheriff."

"Sometimes the sheriff, sometimes other monsters. Each time, I got fed, they got busted, I returned home. It's called living off the land," she winked, still struggling but Sam wouldn't let up.

He had remembered seeing on the Oregon report of 16 people missing. He had thought there were too many bodies for one monster, but as he was then trying to go save Mevlin, the thought had left his head. 

"You use kills to cover your tracks," Sam realized. "You kill and then leave the other Rakshasas to deal with the consequences, and you get away scott free. And then here you're the town crazy person, so the sheriff obviously won't talk to you, or suspect you." He looked up at Alice with twisted awe, "You really planned this."

"There you go Sammy," she mocked, laughing lightly, still clawing at his hand.

"Shut up," Sam hissed, the pieces of the puzzle coming together. He frowned, "Wait then- _you_ killed Brian, not the sheriff. That's why it didn't add up," Sam said softly. Alice grinned. Sam glared at her, "Why? Did you want us to come here? Just to get rid of the sheriff for you, why because he was stealing your thunder?"

"I'm a monster. It's all about survival in this world. Hunters rarely go over the same spot twice," she licked her lips and grinned. 

Sam, stupidly having compassion, loosened his grip as she started to choke, snarling, "You're a lot smarter than you look Alice but really stupid at the same-"

The Rakshasa grinned and then disappeared right before his eyes, sucking in a desperately needed breath that he had naively allowed her to take. Sam cursed.

Here's the thing about when someone goes invisible...Yes, you can still grab them, but you can't see what they're doing. So when Alice went invisible, Sam didn't see the knee coming at his groin or the headbutt, both taking him by surprise before he was flipped by her strength and kicked into the wall. Sam crashed to the floor and groaned, trying to get to his feet amid the rubble he had just made. 

The air moved, a shoe slamming into his hands that he brought up to cover his head just in time. There was still enough force behind the kick and Sam went smack down into the floor again, his head bouncing off the stone before a foot stomped hard on his ankle. Sam let out a earsplitting yell of pain as he twisted, crying out and curling up to grab his injured foot. Suddenly the knife was raised and the Winchester looked up in fear, taking a dangerous guess on where the woman's hands were as she brought the blade down. He caught either arm, pushed back with all of his might but was suddenly winded with a kick to his side.

Sam groaned and then got punched across the face, hard, almost sending him unconscious. It was the flash of light in the corner of his eyes as his head rocked sideways that kept him awake. The gleaming knife came down in an arc towards his exposed chest and Sam desperately twisted, driving the knife forward into the wood floor. He spun and took a wild blind swing, getting the satisfactory of hearing a groan as his hit made contact. 

Sam got to his feet and staggered, getting dragged back down by his ankle, his chin splitting as it hit the floor. Sam kicked backward, his feet flailing and felt his heel sink into something more than once. He cried out, groaning as he scrambled to his feet, grabbed the overturned chair for support and sprinted down the hall, diving into the hallway. Just in time too; a glass table shattered the floor right where he was standing.

Sam spun, trying to gather his bearings of where he had ended up. The _freaking_ cramped laundry room- that's where his luck brought him. Turns out the curse was actually a blessing. Sam grinned and grabbed the bucket of water that was by the washer and readied it, facing the hallway just as Alice rounded the corner. He threw the bucket at the approaching figure that was visible only with how the glass on the floor moved. He soaked her perfectly. With the wail and the subtle glimpses of water dripping from thin air he now had a good idea of where she was. 

Sam then slammed the door shut as Alice ran at him and pounded against the door. Sam groaned, shoving his full body weight against it, trying to hold it in place. 

Brass, brass....

Sam turned and looked, seeing the doorknob on the closet. He locked the door and shoved the dresser in front of it, hopping over piles of clothes and breaking off the brass handle. Then he saw it. A beautiful brass plumping rod. Sam doesn't think he's ever been more excited in his life. The door shuddered, the woman screaming angrily outside. 

Sam pulled with all of his might with both hands, breaking the rod off the wall, water drenching him and spraying everywhere, just as the door slammed open. Sam looks over his shoulder, searching for the invisible woman. He set the rod aside, knowing he wouldn't get it up to chest level in time and instead grabbed the doorknob from where he had laid it earlier. He swung with his doorknob as hard as he could, hitting Alice in what he hoped would be the face. His swing was perfect and Sam swung again but this time there was a knife as a counter weapon and he was lucky that his last hit had been so harsh.

Alice was off balance and she swung wrong, the hilt of the knife hitting Sam's hand instead of the tip which would have sliced his fingers right off. It still hurt and Sam's doorknob fell from his hand as he recoiled, clattering across the floor and spinning to a stop in the corner. The hilt came forward again, slamming into his cheekbone, splitting open the chin right below his eye. Sam staggered back, which was a blessing in disguise when his right hand fell against the brass rod he had leaned up against the dryer.

His hand curled around it and he steadied himself, bracing for pain- pain that would come from the blade driving toward his chest. Sam forced every instinct he had to not worry about the knife as she she stabbed it forward, knowing he only had one chance to kill this thing. He just hoped she was as off balanced as he thought she was. He moved slightly to the right and prayed.

Sam got lucky, but the knife still sank into his arm, slicing a nice gash in the side of it and embedding itself through him and into the wall with a whole bunch of his flannel. With his arm now pinned, Alice's chest was exposed for a small millisecond of time, even though he couldn't see it.

And the experienced hunter took his opening. Gritting his teeth and letting out an angry yell of pain, Sam drove the pipe forward with all of his might. 

A heartbeat's worth of time passed. 

Everything stopped. 

There was a certain silence in the chaos, water spraying everywhere, Sam breathing hard, the gurgle of blood, the clatter of the rod as it hit the ground. 

Sam was still stuck against the wall as he watched the invisible form crumple and fall to the ground, disintegrating into a heap of clothes, the brass pipe falling on the top. Sam yanked the knife out of his arm with a yell of pain and took a shaky breath, staggering a bit, sagging against the dryer and grabbing the edge of it to stop himself from sinking to the ground. 

"Dean," he mumbled to himself. "Gotta get to Dean...come on Sam. You've been...hurt worse..."

He blinked and stumbled down the hallway, grabbing the rod that was on the pile of clothes that had originally been Mrs. Fox. Sam grimaced as he straightened, gripping his arm that was gushing blood. He coughed, groaning to himself in pain, limping back into the kitchen because of his twisted ankle. He shoved his badge, keys, phone and the rest of his belongings back in his pocket and then started for the front door, the piece of scrap paper twisted between his trembling and bloodied fingers, already smearing the page red. 

He staggered, not even caring at this point, pushing the wooden door open with his body and groaning as he wrapped his arms around the porch rail in a last ditch effort to not fall down the steps. He ripped a piece of his flannel with one of his knives and tied it as tight as he could around the stab wound in his arm. Now he pressed his free hand that wasn't trying to keep his arm from becoming a red fondue fountain, against his stomach to try and stop his lower half from becoming a red fondue fountain. Sam leaned against the Impala, squeezing his eyes shut and wincing in pain.

Gritting his teeth, Sam wrenched open the door, holding the slip of paper between his trembling fingers. Sam cussed and took a deep breath, sliding painfully into the front seat, propping the brass pipe or whatever it was against the passengers seat. He dug the key out of his pocket and grasped the door handle, slamming the driver's side door shut and turning over the car. 

_I'm coming Dean. I'm coming._

Sam should have gotten here.

He should have been here by now.

What if something happened to him?

What if he was hurt?

What if the second Rakshasa had gotten to him?

Ow-

Dean's head snapped to the side from a third punch. 

"No more pretty boy huh Dean-o?" Issac said cheerfully, admiring his work. 

Dean lifted his head weakly but said nothing, just rolled his eyes and steadied his breathing, coping with the pain and shoving it down, condensing it into nothing, especially when Issac came closer to lift his chin mockingly.

"Well, I could do this all day." Issac asked, crouching to be eye level with Dean who didn't respond for once. 

He instead tried to divert the question, "Is this how you interrogate all your prisoners?" he chuckled. "No questions, just beating the crap out of them?"

"No of course, you get one phone call," the sheriff winked. 

"Oh yeah, how about your wife? Tell her I won't make it over tonight," Dean winked, earning another hard slug right in the stomach. He groaned, spitting out blood and shaking his head, straightening with difficulty. 

Where was Sam? Dean didn't care that he wasn't here, heck he didn't want him to come. He wanted him as far away from this idiot as he possibly could get him. But Dean knew Sam, and he knew his brother would not stay away. He would come right for Dean, and if not right away, after a logical detour- at the max. But this was longer than Sam would allow. There was something wrong. Dean would get himself out of this mess and then go find whoever took his brother and make them pay. 

"Worried your brother's not coming to save you?" Issac taunted. 

Dean hated how the man could read him and his brother. He started to wonder how much monsters knew about them now. So, he decided to tell the truth and shook his head, "Worried what he got himself into because he isn't coming to save me," Dean corrected. 

"So codependent," Issac said, pulling up a chair gleefully. Dean had been used to that word when referencing him and his brother. It was no longer an insult, more of an accepted lifestyle. A lifestyle he had accepted the minute his dad had handed his baby brother and told him to run out of the house.

"I really have enjoyed our time together Dean," the sheriff mocked. 

Dean cocked his head and smiled sadly, "I do think it's time we see other people though. Don't worry it's not you, it's me."

Issac's elbow cracked across Dean's jaw and the older Winchester's head snapped to the side. "You know what bothers me?" Issac asked softly. "You definitely aren't the screamer type are you Dean? You've taken punch after punch without even the slightest grimace."

"Well this ain't the first time I've been beaten up by a douche bag like you," Dean scoffed and looked away before a hand gripped his chin and roughly turned his face back. 

"I've been alive for a long time. A very, very long time. And never, not once, has my prey not screamed," he admitted, gripping the sides of Dean's mouth so tightly it probably left bruises. 

"Oh, so do I get a medal or something?" Dean asked, is voice garbled, to the point where a slight wince almost broke out along his face. 

"I'm not planning on breaking my streak," Issac snarled. 

Dean faked a smile, "Of course you aren't. But hey, don't your main courses have to be fresh and ready?"

Issac let out a laugh, "Negotiating is Sam's thing Dean, remember?"

The man was right. Dean was never good with words like his brother. He used his fists, but those were pretty useless right about now. Crap. 

"I'm just saying, you'll lose money," Dean shrugged, "it's fine by me since apparently I'm dying anyways. I just want to save you the hassle."

"Well aren't you generous?" the sheriff slurred. "No actually, you there's no preference. Sam on the other hand, it seems like a lot more things that go bump in the night are angry at him, so he may not be so lucky."

"Whatever they want to do to him they can do to me," Dean said quickly.

"First off!" Issac shouted, "I don't take orders from you. Second, that's not how it works."

"Well then make it how it works. You're not touching my brother," Dean swore. 

Issac grinned, "Oh we'll do more than that."

Dean's face twisted into a horrified glare and he lunged forward in the chair, the cords digging into his arms. He twisted, ripping skin, but he didn't care. "You're not getting anywhere near Sam," Dean said angrily. "Over my dead body."

"We'll see about that," Issac flashed him a smile, almost amused at his futile attempts.

Dean slammed his fists down on the seat of the chair from behind him, gritting his teeth, "I'm gonna kill you-"

"Easy Dean-o," Issac chuckled, patting him on the shoulder.

Dean angrily shoved him off with a violent, "Don't touch me you son of a-" He was cut off by a violent punch that sent his head spinning. He coughed and raised his head weakly, defiance still sparking in his eyes. 

"It's about time your past caught up to you Winchesters," Issac shook his head sadly. "It's about time you owned up to your mistakes, to the pain you've caused a lot of people."

"They aren't people," Dean scoffed, correcting him.

"You really want to go there, when I can hurt you in any way I want before you can blink?" Issac threatened. 

Dean was unphased and he leaned forward cockily, "Yeah, I _really_ want to go there-"

"Shut up Dean. Sometimes you don't know when to stop," the sheriff shook his head, trying to avoid the situation. 

Dean grinned, "I've heard that before."

Issac actually smirked and pointed at Dean, "I'm sad we have to waste you Dean, you seem like a nice guy."

Dean rolled his eyes, "Save the kiss up speech. There's a tree outside you can hug, not me," Dean snarled. 

"Your oneliners Dean, they crack me up," Issac grinned, shaking his head.

"Serious question then," Dean sat up straighter and Issac actually turned to face him, intrigued and worried at the same time. "Last time I got a punch in the face for asking, so I'll try again," Dean said cautiously. "Why did you kill Brian?"

Issac's face fell.

Dean continued, "You seemed pretty broken up about it when I first met you man, and no offense, but I don't think you're that good of an actor to convince me. You didn't kill him, did you? That's why you got all defensive?"

"I would never have hurt him," Issac said angrily. 

Dean scoffed, "So it wasn't you it was like your cousin or something- aren't you in the same species?"

"I didn't kill him," Issac growled. "The other Rakshasa did. I knew there was something off about this town the minute I took the job here." 

Dean raised an eyebrow, "So all that stuff about having a brother, about Brian, that was true, wasn't it?"

"I never blended in well. I never had many friends," Issac started, leaving himself wide open for Dean's next jab without even knowing.

"Wonder why," Dean scoffed, earning a cuff in the back of the head.

"I don't need to explain anything to you," Issac snarled, grabbing Dean's collar. "You know what it's like to lose someone close to you, and you know what it's like to feel that pain. And since you've brushed off the pain you've caused all of us, when Sam gets here I will make sure he bleeds, and screams, and-"

"You even lay a hand on my brother and I will personally make sure you're 7 feet under before you can even take another breath. Do you understand me?" Dean said, his voice scary, calm, collected, even, and firm. His glare bore into Issac's eyes but the Rakshasa shrugged it off this time, letting go of Dean's collar. The older Winchester was dropped back into his chair. 

"Because you always protect him Dean? Is that it?" Issac asked, mockingly, "I protected Brian. Look where that got him."

He clapped Dean on the shoulder, the hunter flinching from the touch. He leaned down and spoke into Dean's ear, "We're alike Dean, we're both killers, we both have someone to take care of, and in the end, we will always fail to do our jobs. You want to know why? Because we're failures."

"And that's called a backhanded compliment you piece of crap. I'm nothing like you," Dean snarled. 

The sheriff grinned, "I already know I'm broken. Do you?"

"Shut up," Dean scoffed, trying not to show the effect those past words had on him. "You know, how about you become a school counselor with your uplifting words, or better get a motivational speaker?"

"Quick with comebacks...you must have had to be Dean-o. To cover up that whole inside," Issac proded. 

Dean smirked, "Quicker than you, letting one of your own kind slip right by."

"I've lived my life being wary of humans Winchester," Issac spat. "Until now, my own kind has never been much of a threat, in fact, it still isn't."

"So framing you for killings when hunters find you, so they get away Scott free, you don't consider that a threat?" Dean asked, cocking his head.

"Not when the hunters are dead," Issac grinned. Dean gave him a fake smile back and winked.

"Nice one."

Issac nodded then, pacing in front of Dean, "Your brother caught on quicker than me. I had been juggling the possibility for a while, but when Brian...I knew there was someone, I just didn't know who. But I knew Sam probably had a lead the minute he took those files, had to kill the deputy, good lad, such a shame-"

"Psychopath," Dean cleared his throat, coughing before he looked up innocently, "Excuse me, continue."

"I wanted your brother Dean," Issac sighed, looking at him almost in distaste, "but instead you were at the hotel, instead of him, and well, I had to improvise. It wasn't hard getting you to invite me in."

"Yeah well, you couldn't pull off being my brother too well," Dean shot back.

Issac shrugged, "I held it for long enough. I admit, I did not handle the whole thing well. I did not take the right actions I should have. But no one's perfect right, everyone makes mistakes."

"So you're basically saying you're stupid and someone played you," Dean said, laughing, "A monster tricking another monster."

"Brian was my friend," Issac hissed, getting right in Dean's face. "I didn't see it coming."

"Yeah, I bet, but now he's dead because of you. Good job. Way to treat your friends. Funny, that you, a monster could think he could protect a human," Dean snarled back earning a solid punch. He blinked stars out of his vision and the white dots slowly cleared away when Dean had regained his senses. He knew he had pushed too far. That had done it. Issac was pissed now. The sheriff went over to the fire and grabbed the poker that was sitting by the edge.

"Whatcha gonna do with that sheriff?" Dean called out, twisting his wrists in his bonds, jerking on the chair.

Issac grinned, "You'll see." He set the poker in the center of the flickering flames, the metal growing yellow-red hot. 

"Do you always play with your food?" Dean asked. "Or do I get some special treatment?"

No answer. 

"What about the monster auction you're holding. What do I sell for? More than Sam I hope?" Dean grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Again no answer. 

"Come on man, I'm lonely. Talk to me, let's go. 20 questions, maybe small talk about the weather, or are you just gonna brood over there over your fire-" Dean suggested. 

In one stride Issac was over at his side with the poker and he snarled. 

"I hope this hurts," Issac grinned. 

"Probably will," Dean steeled himself. 

"Ready?" 

"Bite me you sadistic bastard," Dean smiled daringly at him. 

Sam slowed the car at the curve of the driveway so that no one heard him coming. It was a medium sized walk to get to the house from here, which was run down, similar to Alice's, but in a little better shape. He grabbed the brass pipe and suppressed a cry of pain as he got out of the car, his left hand still pressed against his bleeding stomach. He was in no condition to fight, so he hoped that adrenaline would do it's job once he got in there. 

He closed the Impala's door softly and then let go of the car that he had been using as support, starting to stagger down the driveway. He had his pistol leveled as well, even though he knew that wouldn't do much but cause a diversion. He also had the massive knife that he had been attacked with, still dripping with his blood, under his jacket. 

Sam had started to wonder if he had gone to the right place because the house was mostly dark, although it could have been because there was still natural light seeping in through the blinds. Then a bloodcurdling scream, clearly shoved through gritted teeth and filled with pain was let out, echoing from inside the house.

Sam froze, his world stopping, his blood turning ice cold. 

_Dean. _

That was his brother's voice, he knew it like the back of his hand and he knew what it meant. The sheriff was in there, torturing his older brother. Fury boiled up in his chest and a wave of protectiveness and anger built up inside of him. His pain slowly ebbed away and Sam picked up the pace until he was practically sprinting to the front door. He slowed, wincing as another one of his brother's screams cut through the air, louder this time, ending with a strangled gasp of air and small cry of pain. 

He heard muffled voices from inside and Sam peaked through a crack between the door and the wall since it was an old house. 

Dean was tied to a chair, breathing hard, covered in sweat, his jacket peeled down to expose his chest and arms. His shirt was bloodied and steaming and Dean's face was screwed up in pain, sporting a black eye, bloodied nose, and busted lip already. What the- Sam moved his gaze and saw the sheriff standing in front of Dean, taunting him with what looked like a poker, red hot.

"Finally Dean-o, I knew you had a scream in you somewhere."

Issac ruffled Dean's hair to his disgust and Sam's heart stopped beating when his brother didn't even shrug him off. Oh God...

Instead, Dean looked up weakly, pain filling his gaze. Then his fight was back and he gave a forced grin and snarled, "Screw you, you son of-"

No- no- no- no- Sam watched in horror as Issac grinned and shoved the tip of the poker right Dean's shoulder, his brother arching his back and thrashing in the chair as he let out another scream that shattered Sam's heart. 

Sam had had enough and without even thinking, he just kicked down the door, unable to hear another one of Dean's screams. Sam stormed in, furious with blind rage, leveling his gun and yelling, "You touch my brother one more time and I promise you, I'll kill you."

He took one expert shot to the knee, making the Rakshasa stumble back before he hefted his brass pipe and swung as hard as he could, positioning himself between Dean and the sheriff in one long stride. He hit him right in the chest and the man cried out in pain, crashing into the opposite wall before he even knew what had happened. 

All Dean felt was pain. He had finally screamed after about 8 times of reapplying the red hot poker to the exact same spot, digging into his chest, burning and stabbing. Dean's scream tore from his mouth a second time and he cut it off with a pathetic gasp of pain, gritting his teeth and breathing hard, only succeeding in giving Issac exactly what he wanted, strangled whimpers as the Winchester tried to slow his breathing. 

He was sweating, bleeding, and was barely conscious, his vision turning white. 

"Finally Dean-o, I knew you had a scream in you somewhere," Issac taunted, ruffling his hair. Dean was in too much pain to fight him off, or even kick him; he had originally pressed the poker to his kneecap which was still bleeding and burned, his jeans ripping through the gash whenever he slightly moved. 

Dean lifted his head with effort and forced a smile, snarling, "Screw you, you son of-"

He didn't get to finish. His eyes pleaded but the poker stabbed into his chest again, steaming as it hit his skin. Another scream, this one louder, pain overriding all of his senses as he arched his back and thrashed in the chair with the little energy he had left. 

Then, just as the poker was pulled away and Dean gasped in pain, coughing and choking back another cry of agony, the door blew off it's hinges, laying in a splintered heap as it swung open. Sam burst in and Dean recognized his entrance with a flicker of relief in his gaze. Sam stormed forward with murder on his face and Dean felt a surge of pride because of the protectiveness his younger brother had for him. Was this what it looked like whenever Sam was the one tied up and Dean came in?

Sam's gaze was downright scary and Dean watched his furious brother level his gun. 

"You touch my brother one more time and I promise you, I'll kill you," Sam snarled.

He took a shot, hitting the sheriff in the kneecap before he barreled across the room in one stride, positioning himself protectively in front of Dean and swinging- what was that? a brass pipe?- a brass pipe right into Issac's side. 

The sheriff went flying, hitting the wall hard and crumpling to the ground and Dean watched wearily as his brother started forward in his anger, grabbing the sheriff's collar, yanking him to his feet and punching him in the face. 

"It's a Rakshasa-" Dean mumbled out, his voice garbled because of his split lip. Punches wouldn't kill the guy, only hurt him.

"Oh, I know," Sam hissed, punching the man again and Dean realized the intent was just to hurt, pay back for what he had done to Dean. Wow, Sammy was taking a card out of the older brother book. Sam kneed him in the groin and the sheriff groaned before Sam threw him aside. The younger Winchester picked up his brass pipe and flipped it in his hands daringly.

Issac grinned, getting to his feet by the opposite wall and then dissapeared.

Sam cursed and spun around in a circle, looking, scanning. 

Then a voice cried out, "Sam behind- mf!"

Sam ducked and dove to the side, just in time too; a chair hit the wall that he had been standing against. Sam turned to see Dean now had a handkerchief tied messily around his mouth, his older brother desperately trying to get it off. 

"Dean-" Sam started forward when suddenly Dean's eyes darted up and he screamed a 2 syllable phrase that Sam immediately recognized despite it being muffled.

“SAMMY!”

He swung with the pipe behind him, hitting it against the Rakshasas' ribs. This time he didn't wait, he swung again and then shoved as hard as he could. The sheriff, now visible because of the damage Sam had done with the brass, slammed into the wall and Sam pressed the pipe against his throat, pinning him.

He pulled it back and slammed it once across the monster's chest, snarling, "That's for hurting my brother."

Then he hit him across the sheriff's jaw once, "And that's for calling him Dean-o."

The sheriff snarled, trying to fight back against Sam who's adrenaline was giving him the strength to keep him pinned in his anger.

"Go screw yourself," Sam growled, his eyes filled with fury for what this monster did to his brother. He drove the pipe as hard as he could through Issac's chest, the Rakshasa immediately withering away with a high pitched wail, the sheriff's uniform sinking to the floor. 

Sam let the pipe drop and turned around slowly, his injuries catching up with him all at once, the adrenaline rush at the end of his course. Blood was freely flowing from the gash in his stomach and Sam pressed a hand against it, swaying slightly as he turned around to face his brother.

"Smy?" Dean asked worriedly, his voice muffled.

Sam grimaced but gave Dean a nod to let him know he was ok. He staggered across the room to get to Dean who was already yanking on his bonds in desperate attempts to get out of his chair. 

Sam grit his teeth, breathing hard and he limped to his brother's side, patting Dean's good shoulder affectionately and sinking to his knees, using Dean's leg for support. He undid the cords that tightly bound Dean's hands, wincing as he brushed the rope burns and cuts on his brother's wrists. Dean didn't phased; in a flash the older Winchester was yanking off his gag and standing, pulling Sam to his feet. 

"Sammy," Dean said breathlessly, cupping the back of Sam's neck and grabbing a fistful of his jacket with the other. 

"Hey," Sam said back, clasping Dean's forearm. "You okay?"

"Been better," Dean admitted, wincing a bit before he grinned and joked, "About time you showed up."

Sam laughed lightly, "I was a little busy."

It was then that Dean took in all of Sam's injuries. His gaze flicked over the burn on his thigh, his obviously twisted ankle, the gash in his stomach and shoulder- Dean's eyes widened as he realized they were stab wounds- and the multiple cuts and bruises littering Sam’s body.

Dean Winchester was a scary guy. But at the sight of his younger brother hurt? He turned downright terrifying. 

"That bastard who did this better be dead or I'm gonna rip their lungs out." His voice was calm. Soft, and calm. The worst tone. The one Dean reserved only for when he was super pissed, usually when Sam was hurt, like right now, and someone needed to be taught a lesson for touching his brother.

"Dean, I'm ok," SAm quickly him, "And not bastard," he corrected, "but yeah she's dead.”

"She?" Dean asked, still pissed, his hands clenched into fight fists. Sam was afraid he would draw blood.

Sam sighed, knowing Dean was about to make fun of him, "Glue sniffing lady."

"Alice?" Dean looked surprised, "Her, really?"

Sam snorted, "Yeah."

Then Dean snickered, patting Sam lightly on the chest. "You got beat up by a grandma Sammy," Dean pointed out, his eyes scrunching up as he smiled, the anger still there but masked slightly.

"Shut up man," but Sam breathed a sigh of relief that Dean was ok.

The younger Winchester shook his head, still grinning, putting his brother's arm over his shoulder as Dean grabbed and slung Sam's arm over his neck, grateful for the contact after all they had been threw.

In it’s own way, this was a hug, holding each other up after they had cheated death again, them against the world. Always together.

They helped each other down the steps and toward the Impala, Dean clutching his hand over Sam's gash on his stomach to try and stop the bleeding.

"Thanks for coming for me man," Dean said suddenly as they leaned against the car to catch their breath. 

Sam clapped Dean on the back and gave him a small smile, "Always will." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? Tell me what you think! Next chapter will probs be a little shorter and wrap things up u less I get some magical idea to continue the story :(  
Thanks for sticking with this!


	5. Nursing Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I went full tilt with the brotherly moments in this one. Tried to make it realistic tho.   
Just the aftermath of the hunt because the boys deserve somewhat of a break. This is the last chapter so I hope you enjoy it and I hoped you liked the story! Thanks for reading <3

"I'm driving," Dean said firmly, helping Sam around to the side of the car. Sam didn't try and argue with his older brother, too tired and in too much pain to fight Dean's protective nature. He stumbled and Dean caught him somehow- he always caught him- leaning Sam against the car, holding him up while Sam sagged in his arms, trying to lock his legs and push himself up. 

"I've got ya Sammy, come on, almost there," Dean whispered, opening the door quickly before returning his hand to its original spot against his younger brother's side. Sam winced and couldn't help the groan that escaped his mouth. He saw Dean flinch out of the corner of his eye and he immediately felt bad that he had allowed his cry of pain; his older brother was already beating himself up enough. 

Dean slid Sam gently into the passenger's seat, Sam pulling himself in using the hood of the car, wincing as hot pain flared in his shoulder and stomach from the strain. 

"You good?" Dean clapped him on the shoulder. 

Sam pulled his twisted ankle into the car and took a deep breath, blinking out white spots that threatened to cloud his vision. He squinted and made out Dean's concerned face, and still felt the warm, firm, and protective touch on his shoulder; Dean hadn't released his hand yet. 

"Yeah," Sam managed. "Yeah."

Dean knew he was lying but still nodded, giving Sam one of his older brother looks before he shut the door and circled around the car, sliding into the driver's seat. 

"Hey baby," he whispered, running a hand over the steering wheel. "Sam take care of ya?"

The engine purred to life as Dean turned over the car and pulled backward. His older brother yanked the wheel with a somehow violent care, backing the car out and turning around. He put it into drive and sighed, "Let's get out of here."

Sam gave a weak smile as Dean stepped on the gas, getting back on the main road.

When they pulled into the parking lot of their motel, Sam knew Dean was fading. He had seen the slight jerks of the wheel that Dean had tried to hide, some from pain, some from exhaustion. His brother needed sleep. Sam had been awake for days with Lucifer in his head, so he was kind of a pro at staying awake. Dean needed sleep though, and he needed to get stitched up- they both did. 

When Dean pulled it, his head sagging to his chest as he turned off the car he saw his brother's look of dismay at the door that was a little to far away. 

Sam grit his teeth and opened the door. Dean's head snapped up and he spluttered, "Sammy- wait- I can-"

Sam put a hand on his brother's arm and locked eyes with him, stopping Dean from springing out of the car. "I got it. Stay there."

Dean gave his angry pout but did what Sam asked, slumping back into his seat while Sam clamped his lips together to suppress a scream and pulled himself out of the car. He gave a small whimper that Dean luckily didn't hear and slammed the door shut, shuffling around to the driver's side where Dean was sitting, shaking. 

Using the car for support, he waited until Dean opened the door and then he clasped his brother's hand, a new surge of energy flowing through him at the sight of his brother in pain. He grabbed Dean's hand tightly and then reached to wrap an arm around his back as Dean staggered out of the car.

Sam could tell Dean was still trying to hold his own weight so that Sam didn't have to and he pulled him forward, closing the door behind him, feeling how tense his brother was in his grasp, "Hey, I've got you ok? Trust me man." 

Dean hesitated and then growled, "I'm fine-"

"I know you are," Sam grinned, just to assure his brother, even though they both knew he wasn't. To Sam's surprise, Dean fell forward into Sam's chest and he caught him, holding him up and slipping an arm under and around his back. He helped Dean stagger to the front door and fumbled for the key, unlocking the door and stumbling inside. The energy suddenly left both of them and Sam was the one to pitch forward first. He flinched as he fell but then his brother took the reins, grabbing a fistful of his coat and slowly lowering him to the ground, his back up against the bed. 

Sam gave him a look of thanks and then Dean slid down slowly next to him, resting the back of his head against the mattress. He straightened his legs with difficulty and put a shaky hand over his shoulder. They both took a deep breath in sync and shot each other a look. 

"Well that didn't go as planned, did it?" Dean breathed out. 

Sam snorted, "No, no it didn't."

"We should get cleaned up," Sam announced, showing no attempt at standing. 

"Yeah, before these get infected," Dean agreed, but he didn't budge either. 

They both looked at each other again and cracked a smile before returning their heads to rest against the foot of the bed and closing their eyes. 

About 15 minutes later Dean jostled himself awake, wincing from the throbbing pain that was rippling through his body. He groaned and pushed himself up into more of a sitting position; he had slouched in his sleep, before immediately looking over to check on his brother. 

Dean immediately snapped awake. Sam's face was knit with pure pain, his eyes closed, and his brother was leaning heavily against him. Sam didn't mind Dean leaning against his side, or that he was leaning this heavily, what scared him was the fact that the amount of weight pressing into his rib cage seemed more like someone unconscious rather then sleeping. Sam grabbed Dean's shoulders and pushed them upright, his brother's head lolling, his hand that was self-consciously pressing against his wound falling to the ground by his side. 

Sam cursed and cupped his brother's cheek, raising his chin and shaking his shoulder, "Dean! DEAN!" 

He was still breathing...barely. Sam shook him again, his hand cupping his brother's head tightening, "Come on man, wake up!"

Dean blinked and suddenly surged, gripping Sam's arm and a fistful of his t-shirt. His older brother's eyes stayed wide open and he took a raspy breath, his fist tightening as he gasped for air and tried to steady his breathing, his face screwing up in pain. 

"Hey, hey, you good? You good?" Sam steadied him and Dean's hands released their hold as his brother scowled, nodding and waving him off. 

"Come on, we've got to get these wounds checked out," Sam insisted.

"You first," Dean insisted. 

"Dean," Sam protested. 

"This isn't a negotiation. You're hurt worse. You first," he said firmly. Dean raised his _don't try me _eyebrow and Sam sighed in submission. 

Sam peels his shirt up and winces. His entire torso is covered with blood, in fact it's still bleeding a bit, his hands covered in it, his shirt drenched in it...it's not looking good. Before he can make an excuse to go to the bathroom or something, Dean wacks his hand that tries to yank down his shirt and lifts it, catching a glimpse of the wound. 

Sam gives him a guilty look and Dean glares at him, immediately grabbing their bag that had first aid kit supplies in it, grabbing a bunch of bandages and one of their makeshift needles and threads. 

Dean grabs a bottle of alcohol and douses the needle before he looks up at his brother and winces. "It's gonna hurt like crap," he warns.

"Yeah," Sam sucks in a breath and squeezes his eyes shut. 

Dean soaks the cut with alcohol and Sam grits his teeth, letting out a small groan. But he knows that's not gonna be the worst part. Dean holds the needle steadily, glancing up at Sam who nods, curling the mattress covers into his fist and planting his feet. 

The needle slides under the deep cut and out the other end, Sam's eyes filling with pain as he bites his lip.

"See? That wasn't too bad. Like 8 more to go," Dean grins.

Sam shoots him a look as his brother pulls the string tight and loops it again. He repeats the process 9 more times (he lied) giving Sam encouraging commentary like, 

"There's a thunderstorm coming in tomorrow."

"You got beaten up by a grandma Sam, just reminding you."

"I bet she tried to strangle you- they always try and strangle you."

"Well if you'd stop moving, it would be easier!"

Sam shoots him look after look from those, but there are some heartfelt words in there too. 

"Ok alright. Almost there."

"Doing great ok, hang in there."

"We'll laugh about this someday Sammy."

"Hey, I know man, stop moving ok?"

Dean's voice is gentle as he coaxes his little brother through the painful process, knotting the final string at the end as Sam breathes a sigh of relief.

"There we go, look at that, huh? Hey!" Dean grins, wiping his hands and giving Sam a wide grin. Sam doesn't share his enthusiasm but he gives his brother a small thankful smile, suppressing a wince as he lowers his shirt. 

"Ok phase 2," Dean announces, pointing at the other stab wound in Sam's shoulder but the younger Winchester shakes his head. "Nope, I get a break."

Dean rolls his eyes and sits down on the bed, grabbing his knife and ripping his shirt away from his shoulder with some hesitation. When Sam sees the wound, he kicks himself for not taking care of his brother's injuries first. 

"Dean," he inhales sharply. The wound was deep and ugly- some parts cauterized from the heat of the poker, the area around the cut burned and bloody- in fact it was still bleeding, with bits of Dean's shirt plastered around the cut from when he had ripped it. 

"It's not as bad as it looks," his brother attempts to defend himself.

"That's not saying much," Sam grumbles and he goes to work. He did what he could about the burns and the sections of charred skin. As for the blood, he tried to slow that too, having Dean press the handkerchief his older brother always carried in his back pocket against the cut while he got a cold washcloth. 

He was forced to rip off the pieces of shirt that were melted into Dean's skin. 

His brother flinched and grit his teeth, staying silent but curling his hands into fists as Sam winced with him, hating causing his brother pain. 

"Almost got it. Almost got it, right there-" Sam announces, having to dig into the wound a bit. "Come on!" Sam cusses before he breathes a sigh of relief and palms the string and cotton in his hand for Dean to see. "Got it."

"Yeah I can see that Sammy," Dean jokes, his voice laced with pain. 

Sam hates when he has to sew up Dean's cuts. But the reason why he hates it is a lot more complicated than you would think. When it's Sam's turn, he allows himself to flinch, grit his teeth, cry out- show his pain. When it's Dean's turn, his brother sets his feet, similar to Sam, clenches his hands over his knees and sucks in a breath. Pain will fill Dean's eyes, and his hands with tighten over his knees, but never, never has he let out a cry of pain unless it's really, really bad. He'll hide it all behind a wince, almost as if he doesn't want Sam to see him in pain. 

That's why Sam is shocked when Dean suddenly flinches away as Sam loops the needle for the first time with a strangled half-growl, half-cry of, "Sammy!"

He had poked the needle a little harshly to prevent his hands from shaking, but Sam had sewed up Dean's cuts a million times and he had never complained about the first stitch. But the plead in his brother's rough cry made Sam's stomach drop.

"I know," Sam flinches, muttering, "I know, sorry, almost done, ok? Sorry."

"Sokay..." Dean moves back towards his brother and looks away, screwing up his nose in pain until Sam is done. The younger Winchester is sad, but also happy at Dean's moment of vulnerability towards him, although he didn't want it to be because of pain. He still had to douse the cut with the alcohol but decided he would wait, giving his brother a minute to steady his breathing.

"You good?" he asks, looking over the rest of Dean's wounds, seeing if there are any his brother wouldn't insist on doing himself.

"Shoulder's dislocated," Dean announces weakly and Sam looks at him in shock. He recalled putting his full body weight leaning against his brother as he helped him to the car, _and _Dean catching him and setting him slowly to the ground when they first staggered back into their room. 

After his look of fury, Sam grabs the bottle of alcohol and splashes it against Dean's cut. Dean hisses, yelping, "What the-"

"That's for not telling me," Sam announces before he gently presses a hand against Dean's bad shoulder and his other against the palm of his back. 

"Ready?" Sam asks. Dean gives him a harsh nod. 

"One-" Sam pulls up sharply on Dean's shoulder, feeling it pop back into place as his brother buckles forward onto the bed, letting out a rough groan of pain that he turns into a fake laugh. Sam still hasn't let go of his shoulders, letting Dean take a breath straighten. Then he shrugged him off in big bro fashion. 

Dean turns around and glares, massaging his shoulder, "I hate you."

Sam smiles. 

About an hour later they're finally finished, looking slightly better. They had patched up the rest of their severe wounds, used up a bottle of wine for drinking and medical usage, and changed out of their bloodsoaked clothes. Sam ran a hand through his hair, wincing as his stitched in his shoulder tightened at the movements. 

"Ow," Sam concluded, sinking down onto his bed. 

Dean flopped onto his own mattress across from Sam and let out a loud sigh, "You said it." Then he rolled over to look at Sam. "Well, I'm gonna say we get a day off. Or two." 

Sam nodded, "That's fair."

"What time is it?" Dean asked.

"3:41 am," Sam scoffed.

"We should get sleep," Dean suggested. "It's been almost a day since I closed my eyes."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, his eyes already closing. 

"Night man," Dean said, turning on his side. 

"Night bro," Sam said back, pulling his covers up to his chin. 

After 20 minutes, Sam sat up. Dean, hearing him move, rolled over and sat up as well, kicking the covers off. His brother turned on the light. 

"Can't sleep either?" Dean asked.

Sam gave a weak shake of his head, stretching his back and giving a wince of pain. Dean reached down to the floor, digging through his bag and shaking a container of Advil. He took one for himself and then tossed it to Sam who gave him a nod of thanks. 

"How bad," Dean says through his gulp of water, eyeing Sam nervously. 

"Had worse," Sam admits. 

"Very descriptive. You should write poetry," Dean snorts, chucking the water bottle at Sam after he's done so he can take his pain meds.

"Sam?" Dean asks. 

"Yeah?"

"How'd you do it?" Dean asks vaguely, explaining himself after Sam gives him a look of confusion. "I mean, you had a concussion, were bleeding out from your stomach and shoulder, got beat up by an old lady, bum ankle, burned leg...how did you drive Baby, let alone burst in all commando?"

Sam suppressed a smile.

Dean scowled, "You know, with you being a wimp and all," his brother added so his compliment was buffered.

"I wasn't going to just leave you there Dean, you were in trouble," Sam said. "You'd do the same for me. I've got your back."

Dean gave him a look. That one look said so many things. Winchester's didn't show feelings. They didn't say I love you. They didn't hug unless the world was ending or one of them was going to die, or came back from the dead. But they had a bond that trumped absolutely anything. Dean hadn't said 'I love you' since they were kids; their father chastised them for it, claiming that it could be used against them if any monster heard that exchange. 

Sam knew Dean loved him. He knew it every time his brother stepped in front to block a blow from a Wendigo. He knew it whenever Dean put an arm across his chest to shield him from danger. He knew when Dean gave him the rest of his food when they were little, or after a hunt when they helped each other limp away, their arms slung over one another's shoulders. 

That look said nothing to a common bystander. But Sam had spent years of reading Dean's looks. They communicated through their glances and glares whether it was in a hunt or just talking without words. 

Sam gave him his own look back and then shrugged, "I don't know. I showed up, ready to pass out. Bleeding everywhere, I tried not to get it on the car."

"Good, I would have killed you," Dean joked, both of them knowing he cared more about Sam's well being than Baby's leather, no matter how many times Dean denied it. 

"But when I got to the door and I heard you in there- I heard you scream and I couldn't take it Dean. I couldn't. So, i don't know, I just ran in and wanted to kill whatever bastard was hurting you. I guess I just went red," Sam admitted.

Dean gave him a proud smile and nodded. There was a moment of understood silence between the two before Dean looked over, "Well, thanks."

Sam nodded in return. Then Dean grabbed the remote and raised an eyebrow, "Feel like some TV?"

"Yeah sure," Sam nodded, settling back against the headrest of the bed. Dean flicks on the television and scrolls through the channels until he finds Dr. Sexy MD. Dean let's out a pleased laugh, looking over at Sam for approval. His younger brother let's out a laugh and nods, not objecting, only rolling his eyes. 

They finish an episode and then Sam looks down, realizing blood is starting to soak through his bandage. He slides out of bed, starting to make his way over to the bandages before his knee and ankle promptly buckle underneath him and Sam falls to his hands and knees on the carpet. He curses, remembering the bad sprain on the ankle. The pain wasn't bad, but the pure shock and surprise, and the lack of balance was the cause that brought Sam to his knees. 

"Sammy?" In a flash, his brother had thrown his covers aside and had circled the bed, dropping to Sam's side and grabbing his good shoulder, "You ok"

"Yeah," Sam says, cursing himself again, wincing as Dean helps him too his feet, "Just stupid." He lets go of Dean's sweatshirt he realizes he's been instinctively fisting. 

"What do you need?" Dean asks. Sam points to the blood splotch that's slowly becoming darker against the white bandage. Dean grabs a second wad, ripping open the paper and handing it to Sam. 

"You got it?"

"Yeah, I got it," Sam says, wrapping up his side again until he can't see the blood anymore. 

"Good?" Dean asks; he hadn't left his side yet. 

"Good," Sam concludes. 

"How about that ankle? I forgot to check that out," Dean says angrily, as if he's blaming himself for Sam's injury. 

"It's not bad," Sam lies. He couldn't help but wince at the memory of the white hot pain that shot through his ankle. 

"Step on it," Dean challenges. 

Sam eases himself off the bed and sets his two feet on the ground, trying to trick his brother by having his right foot hover off the ground ever so slightly, so that all his weight was on his good foot. 

"Uh uh," Dean suddenly pushes his shoulder and Sam is forced to step on his bad foot, the ankle buckling after searing pain again and Sam yelps, about to topple to the ground. Before he can however, Dean is there, catching him, with firm hands on either sides of his shoulders, easing him back onto the bed and giving him a shake of his head and a playful smile. 

"I taught you that trick dude," Dean laughs. 

Sam grins through the pain, "Oh yea." He should have known he could never trick his brother, because most of the time it was Dean who taught them to him in the first place, and because Dean could read Sam like a book. 

As Dean walked out to go get Sam ice, he remembered the day his older brother had taught him that trick. Their dad had been on a hunt and Dean had taken it upon himself to teach Sam how to ride a bike. About halfway through, Sam had fallen, and Dean had caught him but his ankle had been crushed by the bike and badly sprained. 

Sam, terrified that their dad would be so mad he had hurt his brother, even though he hadn't meant to, had started crying. His older brother held him on the ground by the crashed bike with his arms tight around him, reassuring and comforting him until Sam had calmed down, whispering comforting words into Sam's curls. 

When their dad had gotten home, Dean had made sure that Sam hadn't gotten in trouble, hiding his brace beneath his long pants and standing as Sam had just demonstrated when their dad came home. From then on, the two brothers had done that time and time again, after hunts to hide their injuries and make their father proud before going back into their shared room and nursing each other's injuries. 

Dean came back in and set the ice against Sam's ankle and he hissed in pain. Dean patted him on the leg, "20 minutes."

"Yes mom," Sam rolled his eyes. 

Dean settled back onto his bed and Sam pulled himself up with a slight wince. 

"You good bro?" Dean asked. 

"Yeah," Sam answered, and he actually meant it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bad at endings. Hope that was good! Thanks for sticking with this fic, don't forget to leave comments and kudos :)  
Carry on my wayward sons!


End file.
